


Holding On To You

by INTPSlytherin_reylove97



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: AM I CRUEL, ARE REY AND BEN IN LOVE????, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Author Acts Like She Knows Art--But Really She Doesn't, BECAUSE IT IS A MAJOR SLOWBURN, Ben Solo Needs A Drink, Break Up/Divorce Sort Of, Cassian and Jyn might have a hidden agenda, Comedy, Did I mention this is a slow burn?, F/M, FOR BOTH COUPLES, Force Bond (Star Wars), Gen, Graphic Designer Ben, How Do We Break A Force Bond?, I Guess Inappropriate Use of The Force?, Imaginary Friends, It Is A Lot Harder Than They Thought, MAZ IS WONDERFUL, Mental Disorders Mentioned, Mind Reading, Mostly Their Former Therapists LYING TO THEM FOR YEARS, Muralist and Artist Rey, Rey Realizes She Might Not Be Traumatized, Rey is a Kenobi, Romantic Comedy, Sad Unintentional Jedi Mind Tricks, Some Questionable Gaslighting, The Force, The Force Ships It, The Force in the Modern World is a Trip, The Force is Trying to Keep Ben a Virgin and it is Only Mucking Up His Emotions, Therapist Cassian and Jyn are Trying But They Have Their Work Cut Out for Them With Reylo, Therapy, Trust Me There is Some Fishy Force Things Going On Here, We'll Learn More Later, What the Hell is the Force? Uh...We Will Figure It Out Along the Way, but not really, well yes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2019-09-14 08:34:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 47,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16909653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INTPSlytherin_reylove97/pseuds/INTPSlytherin_reylove97
Summary: When Ben Solo was ten, he woke up to the sound of a baby crying downstairs.Her name was Rey, and she liked his ears a little too much. He didn't have the heart to complain.And then she disappeared...Only to show up again a day later.A pattern emerged, Rey his constant companion, even if she was only a figment of his imagination.It's 2018 (twenty-one years later) and there is a girl who looks exactly like his "imaginary friend"...who turns out to be NOT so imaginary.It looks like Ben Solo and Rey Kenobi have a little problem called a Force Bond, and nobody seems to have an answer. Not even their puzzled, well meaning therapists.*****A Modern AU-Force Bond Fic.Yeah, you read that right.ON MINI-HIATUS: WILL RETURN IN SEPTEMBER.





	1. Before You Start Your Day

**Author's Note:**

> WELL, HELLO!
> 
> Now, all of you who are serial readers of my writing are probably thinking "No. You have too many WIPs."
> 
> I know fam. I know. You are right. And I cannot deny this.
> 
> But also--I have finally matured and made a system and had a long discussion with myself. 
> 
> All my WIPs that are based off of other fiction will be updated at least once a month, while this fic and hopefully Across Alternate Universes will be updated regularly (like once a week or every other week). And my oneshots will happen when they happen. I like routine, but also I need to write what I like and what I am passionate about. SOOOOO HERE IS THIS FIC. And I have the first couple of chapters already written and this fic planned out, like an actual legit outline like Penmanship.
> 
> Anyways, as always, typos will be fixed later.
> 
> Also, there is a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ssXMxWtwmIakjQTaNTXER) for this fic. Songs will be added every chapter. 
> 
> And.....ENJOY!

** Holding On To You **

**Part One**

**Chapter 1: Before You Start Your Day**

* * *

 

“How do I look?”

He stood back, examining his attire in the mirror. Black on black—not a new combination for him, but absolutely a new sweater for the incoming autumn.

Biting his lips together, Ben waited for Rey’s response. 

In the mirror’s reflection he noticed her frown, nose scrunching in distaste. She then titled her head to the side, her three buns flopping and drooping at every movement. Annoyed, she shoved the loose nutmeg strands away from her face. Honestly, she should have just let him braid her hair when he asked.

But as usual Rey was stubborn and declared she was fine with her practical little buns, despite how impractical they became with her growing hair.

“ _Okay_ ,” she dragged out infinitely long, her tone honest but clearly not pleased by his appearance. “It’s okay, I guess?” A wince broke out. “I’m just not sure—I mean _black on black_? I know you have more color in your wardrobe than _that_.”

She waved at him, gesturing from head to toe—his black shoes, his black sock, his black pants, his black sweater. Obviously, he had a preferred color palette. There was nothing wrong with preferring dark colors to brighter ones. Plenty of people lived their life without a pop of color; there was nothing necessarily odd about it.

Ben scoffed.

“You are no fucking help,” he grumbled, fiddling with the hem of his black sweater.

It looked… _okay_. Not great, but—

Goddamn it. She was fucking right.

Behind him, she flopped on his bed. Haphazardly, her bright green fuzzy sock feet kicked out, she acting like a toddler rather than the twenty-one year old woman she claimed to be.

“Well!” She cried out, her head turned towards him. “What do you want me to say—‘Ben don’t wear the black sweater, your therapist will think you are more fucked up than you actually are'?”

Ben spun away from the mirror, stalking over to her.

From the bed, she looked up at him disinterestedly, as though challenging him to say something to contradict her. He usually did and this time would be no different.

His mouth downturned sharply. “Yes, Rey,” he replied tersely, “That is _exactly_ what you need to say.”

Sitting up, she eyed him curiously, her hazel gaze roving over him in a familiar pattern. After knowing each other for over twenty years, it was not strange to find the other simply observing or staring. Eyes befuddled and amazed before becoming completely accustomed to the other’s presence. They were each other’s longest and enduring companions; they didn’t question their friendship too much.

Questioning led down a spiral of uncertainty neither knew how to confront.

“Sorry Mr. Grumpy-Pants. Didn’t know this was a life or death situation.”

“It’s not,” he answered, stepping away from her. Glancing at his watch, he huffed. “I don’t have time to change,” Ben declared as he crossed to the other side of his studio apartment. “I’m already running late.”

Naturally, she followed him, only a few steps behind.

She didn’t like being alone.

And neither did he—that’s why parting became increasingly difficult as the days and weeks wore on.

But he had his life to continue and couldn’t be cooped up in his apartment all the time. And she… _well_ , if she was the ambitious artist she claimed to be, then she couldn’t constantly be focused on him. Or as focused on him as she was in the past

These days she wasn’t as bad as she’d been when she was a child. But that didn’t mean their separation hurt any less. They tried to act as though it didn’t, as though their friendship was more of a hindrance rather than a blessing. Or better yet a curse.

Shrugging on his jacket, Ben quietly observed her clothes—oversized and splotched t-shirt and paint speckled overalls. A pang settled in his chest at the sight, recalling the days he’d dress similarly.

He thought for a good couple of years he’d be a _real_ artist, as his uncle liked to say. But Ben liked his job now; it was stable and independent, just how he liked it. Rejection and criticism still trickled in as a graphic designer, though not massive floods as his oil painting pieces.

In a way, Rey was living the dream he ran away fearfully away from.

“Alright, have fun talking about your _feelings_ ,” Rey sang back tauntingly, though her jolly tease did not reach her eyes. Awkwardly, she crossed her arms over her chest, staring at a point behind him than directly at him. Her jaw worked tensely, as though thinking of more words to fill the void.

He understood her disappointment.

Mondays were usually _their_ days. Ben work from home and Rey hung out around the apartment. She’d paint and ramble about anything and everything.

However, his new therapist was attempting to juggle both San Tekkas client load and her own clientele. This meant Monday’s were now therapy days and he had an afternoon off on Wednesday.

Rey thought it was stupid claiming her new therapist would never do such a thing.

Ben rolled his eyes at the remark.

“Oh, I’ll have so much fun,” Ben deadpanned back, checking his pockets for keys and wallet. “Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone!”

“Wouldn’t do it if I could.” She called back, a wicked smile on her lips.

“Not reassuring!” he said, punctuating his sentence with the slam of the apartment door.

On the other side, Ben hesitated a moment. He wondered if a switch in their routine would cause trouble.

Before he could dwell on it longer, another alarm went off from his phone.

Oh god, he was going to be _really_ late.

 

* * *

 

“You…you’re British,” was the first thing Ben said when Dr. Jyn Erso greeted him. “Why would you be doing practice in the United States?”

“Because I want to, and that was classic deflection,” she answered back unamused.

Ben wasn’t too sure of what to make of his new therapist if she already analyzed him that quickly. Not to mention her confidence contended strongly against his defiance. Dr. Erso moved into San Tekka's office, the two counselling professionals décor tastes opposing. All the ancient pottery knick-knacks lining the bookshelves were replaced with minimalistic graphic designs, framed in black. The gaudy orange tapestry that hung on the single solid wall was no longer in the room; blessing but also unsettling. In it's stead a simple muted blue paint job covered the wall. A mahogany desk and worn down but loved sofa love-seat were the lingering artifacts of San Tekka's former office.

While Ben appreciated change and wanted his long time therapist to finally retire, he still wasn't fond of this development. Especially since he was on the receiving end of this particular change. 

He sunk lower into the sofa cushions.

Realizing he was not going to say more, Dr. Erso cleared her throat and reached for the file on her desk.

“I have read your file.”

“Great.”

“And it caused some concern.”

“Nothing new,” he muttered, refraining a slight glower.

Dr. Erso paused, quirking an eyebrow. Pursing her lips, she continued. “But I have also compared note with neurology and your other medical documents on file—there isn’t anything wrong with you except—”

“That I have an imaginary friend?” Ben interrupted, a sardonic grin on his lips. “Oh, I know. She has been around for twenty-one years. _I know_.”

Sensing his hostility, Dr. Erso momentarily bristled before regaining composure.

“Ben, you don’t have to like me or be my client—this is merely a formality since Dr. San Tekka retired,” she said devoid of emotion, but sharp nonetheless. “But after reading your file, I _do_ want to be your therapist.”

“Why?” Ben asked, sitting up. He eyed the woman warily; he was careful with what he shared. He learned to be from one to many slip ups in the past. “Why would I interest you?”

“Because clearly San Tekka saw something special or important in you if he kept you as a client for this long,” Dr. Erso said with conviction.

Ben heard her mentor has been San Tekka and that is why he trusted her with his clients. While Ben did not believe it first glance, there was a sense of security in Dr. Ersos eyes, similar to San Tekka’s.

“San Tekka and I usually would just talk about my week. We don’t—we don’t talk about my…” he trailed off, his bravado of admitting to an ‘imaginary friend’ faded. Now he was just a thirty-something year old who was still awkward when it came to opening up.

“Then we can just talk about your week.” Dr. Erso nodded once, waiting readily for Ben to speak.

Maybe he was being an asshole, but it was something he did well in the face of potential ‘danger’.

Leaning back into his spot, Ben stayed silent for the entire session.

 

* * *

 

“Peanut, are you sure you are okay living on your own?” Finn asked for the fifth time since he and Rey started video chatting an hour ago.

Rushing around her apartment, Rey shouted an exasperated “YES!” as she struggled to find her other shoe.

On the tablet screen, Finn frowned forlornly at her.

Rey choose to ignore his concerned looks and outcries. Better to let him vent than actually try and cry-out a conversation with him.

Glancing under the bed again, her mouth formed a firm, determined line. She found nothing but dirty clothes she desperately needed to wash. How did she accumulate so much laundry in less than two weeks?

Huffing exasperatedly, Rey decided to retrace her steps. She swore she put her shoes by the sofa last night. She would have put them in their proper place if it hadn't been for stupid Ben.

Ben claimed she was tracking paint everywhere, reminding her to take them off. Which was a complete and utter lie because she didn’t wear her green Converse when she painted at the community center. Her green shoes were going to remain in perfect condition if it were the last thing she did, being in studios and workshops had caused every single pair of casual shoes Rey owned to become paint shoes.

“Finn, I have lived on my own before,” she said, dropping to the floor.

Waving her arm under the sofa, her hand brush something distinctly shoe-like.

“Yeah, but it was in your hometown and in your Grandad’s place. Chandrila is not outer Coruscant.”

“I know Finn!” She called out, stretching her arm out further until she grasped the shoe. “But that doesn’t mean I am going to move in with you and Rose. No offense, but I don’t want to be a third wheel.”

From the floor she heard Finn sputter. “We—she and I are only _roommates_. We aren’t a thing-thing, _what_?” His voice pitched into a wheezy whine.

Rey flinched; her friends were really that oblivious?

She sat back up and gapped at the shoe in her hand. A shoe distinctly larger than her own.

It was a men’s dress shoe.

It was _Ben’s_ dress shoe.

This had happened before…but it’d been years. When she and Ben weren’t talking, when shit hit the fan for him, when her Grandad was ill—

“Peanut? Are you okay? Did you get lost in the abyss of the couch?”

Unceremoniously, the shoe fell from her hand. 

“Yup! Great!” Rey sprang up from the floor and dashed to her tiny, bulging closet. Despite growing up humbly, Rey had a habit of being a thrift store and bargain fiend. “You know what? Who needs green shoes! I’m just going to put on some other shoes, I mean I am painting later.” She spoke mostly to herself, hearing Finn moving around on his end of the call.

“Peanut, do whatever it is you need to do,” he said encouragingly. “I am just glad you are going somewhere again since you left Skywalker.”

Rey shook her head, roughly pulling out two matching shoes from her enormous pile. “He _retired_ , Finn.”

“He freaking left you to fend for yourself—”

“I don’t think he really did—”

“He did!” Finn shouted back in defense, Rey holding back a snort.

“Sure, buddy.”

In reality, Skywalker simply declared he was tired and needed to focus on himself. Rey was one of his few clients and over the years she became more of an art student to him than someone she vented to about her life and possibly _real_ —ehrm, possibly imaginary best friend.

However, Skywalker had awful timing.

Grandad passed away three weeks later.

And life was a bit hellish for a while, except for her friends and well, _Ben_. Not that her friends knew about Ben. They could _never_ know about Ben. 

They didn't need to know she had an 'imaginary friend'. At least that's how she explained Ben's existence in her life, well in her _mind_.

“So I searched the therapist guy. Super suave looking and from Mexico, and was a debate champion in college.”

Rey tied up her shoes and walked back to her tablet with a knowing, tense smile.

“Finn, I love you, but you don’t need to internet stalk my therapist.”

“It was Rose’s idea.”

“ _NO, IT WAS NOT_!" 

Despite being short in stature, Rose Tico's voice and presence was captivating and loud. Perfect embodiment of 'though she be little, she be fierce.' And Rey could sense the woman marching to Finn despite being on the other side of the city.

“And that is my cue to go.” Rey waved goodbye to a stricken Finn, tapping the chat window closed as his face fell.

Now alone, her eyes drifted back to the shoe.

“I’ll deal with _you_ later,” she told the object, pointing a stern finger in its direction.

Her self-imposed authority did little to ease the rapid beats of nervousness in her chest.

 

* * *

 

“Uh, hi,” Rey greeted the receptionist at the office, hoping she didn’t sound as young as she felt before the woman. Despite attending appointments and meetings of her own for a nearly a good five years, she still felt a little childish in front of a receptionist or secretary. “I have an appointment with Dr. Andor at 12:20—”

A door furthest from the front desk swung open, startling the few people in the waiting room. Only three counselors practiced at Force Temple Counselling, one of the founders recently retiring. Based off of Luke’s recommendation, Rey decided to give the place a shot. After all the worst that could happen was she didn’t like Dr. Andor and she would have to find a different therapist.

“So I’ll see you next week,” the woman holding the door open asked the unseen man.

“I suppose—”

“Miss?” The receptionist tapped the clipboard in her hand with the end of her pen. Blinking away from the curious scene, Rey turned back to the woman with a smile. “You will need to fill out some forms. Simple questionnaires.”  

“No problem.”

She took the offered clipboard and pen from the woman. Turning on her heel, Rey began to head to one of the uncomfortably stiff waiting chairs—only to crash into a sturdy body. A tall, impossibly large man who was apparently built like an oak tree because he remained in place while Rey flailed a bit.

Ungracefully, she stumbled and dropped her clipboard in the space between them. Paper fanned out mixing with his own half folded sheets, also victims of their collision.

Two warm hands caught her forearms before she could completely fall.

Instinctively she clutched back, her fingers digging into his black sweater. “Aw, shit,” she mumbled apologetically, starting to step back. Her eyes remained glued on the floor, the heat of embarrassment creeping up her neck.

He didn’t release her, instead his grip became tighter for a brief moment. As though sensing her growing hesitance, he let go.

Out of his hold, Rey crouched down to retrieve the papers. In front of her, she noticed he was simply staring at her, not bothering to help. A flutter of embarrassment grew in the bristle of anger.

Furiously she ignored how long their interaction felt despite it spanning roughly ten chaotic seconds.

“Uh, it’s okay…”

The man’s voice sounded startling familiar.

Rolling her eyes, she looked up.

And froze.

“B-Ben—” she stuttered out, still crouched on the floor. Frantically she glanced around. Some people were glancing at her— _them_?—but mainly minded their own business. She stood back up and dropped her voice low. “What the hell are you doing here? _Go away_ —we agreed not to see each other when people are around,” she said with a hiss.

Instead of a quip in retaliation, Ben stared at her in puzzled wonder, his mouth moving to say words. Of course, nothing came out. This fucking prick.

One moment he could be protective and a great listening ear, the next he was an reckless asshole she had to live with until the end of time.

Goddamn it, but _still_ , he knew better than to show up now!

They had one too many encounters where various friends or family members would overhear them talking to each other; hence the therapy. He was making it ten thousand times worse by showing up while she was on her way to see her new therapist.

 _Fine_. If he was going to pop up randomly and interrupt her day while she was surrounded by people nonetheless, she could just shut him out.

She squeezed her eyes shut, counted to ten and then blinked them open.

Nope he was still there. Gapping like a fish.

But…but that _couldn’t_ be. He was never solid or so _realistic_ when surrounded by people.

“Ben, I said—”

He shoved her roughly on the shoulder. She stepped back a step but mostly held her ground.

She scowled at him. “What the hell—”

Eyebrows scrunched together, he shoved her again, this time with a little more force.

She felt a soft spike of pain. Nothing too bad, but noticeable.

“Hey! That hurt—”

His eyes grew impossibly wider, face whiter than a clean slate. “Fuck, you _are_ real.”

Her eyes narrowed on him. “Of course I’m real! You’re the one who’s not real!”

To further prove her point, she kicked him in the shin. He keeled over, his face pinching as explicative streamed from his mouth in increasing volume.

“—fucking shit—”

“Excuse me, do we have a problem here?” A smooth, accented voice asked.

The bickering duo whipped around to face a mildly concerned, though mostly amused, man. Though he grew out a modest beard, Rey recognized Dr. Cassian Andor from his photos on the practice’s website.

His dark eyes darted between the two. “Are both of you here for a session—”

Rey stepped back from the two men, arms out. “Wait, wait, wait—” she raised an eyebrow at Dr. Andor. “You—you can—can _see_ him?” Her voice dropped to an embarrassed whisper.

Offended, Ben’s frowned at her before shaking his head. “Of course he can see me—I’m standing right here!” He waved to all of himself, Dr. Andor raising an eyebrow at the display.

Her scoff morphed into a frantic laugh. “You are lying—”

A bellow of mocking chuckles came from him. His astonishment quickly transitioned into annoyance. Confusion became lost in the winds of frustration. “That’s stupid because I can’t lie to you—”

“Then how do you explain—”

“If you let me talk—”

“ _You’re not real_!”

“ _Neither are you_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well. Things happened and these so called imaginary friends are apparently VERY REAL. 
> 
> If parts of this chapter felt vague, short, and possibly slightly confusing, well that was the goal! We will get some more answers (and MORE QUESTIONS) in the next chapter.
> 
> Now the adventure begins :D
> 
> Further Notes: Yes, both Rey and Ben are in therapy. We got some hints why for Ben, but the next chapter will fully explain. We are mixing canon based Force elements with real world logic, so things get messy fast.
> 
> Bonus: Does anyone know where the title of the fic and the prologue come from? Because there is a pattern and a specific source to all the chapter titles in the fic ;)
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated; I love discussing the fic with my readers!
> 
> Follow me on twitter @intpslytherin97


	2. Not Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer of 1997: Ben meets Rey.
> 
> Present Day: Rey knows Ben is not real...right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next chapter!
> 
> If I haven't replied to your comment from the previous chapter, I will soon! :)
> 
> Also [Updated Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ssXMxWtwmIakjQTaNTXER)

**Holding On To You**

**Part One**

**Chapter 2: Not Today**

 

* * *

 

 

**July 12, 1997**

When Ben was ten he heard the sound of a baby crying.

The wails were high pitched and Earth shattering, strong enough to wake Ben from his slumber.

Disoriented, he climbed out of his bed and shuffled along his room to the bedroom door. He carefully avoided the Lego plane set he’d been building hours earlier, the figure halfway done. He meticulously followed the directions, hoping to put the finished product on his empty shelf. With the recent move to Yavin, Ben’s dad allowed him to decorate his room however he liked. Maybe it was his dad’s way of cushioning the divorce, but Ben did not argue as he dumped everything resembling a pilots or aircraft into the shopping cart.

The cries grew louder; sharp and clear.

Biting his lips together, he glanced down to his dad’s room, confused.

Didn’t he hear the baby—who would even bring a _baby_ to their house at night?

Nothing about the situation made sense, even with sleep lingering cloudily over his mind.

Quietly, Ben shuffled through the hall and down the stairs, the tall skylight window shinning moonlight into the older house. His dad called the place a ‘fixer-upper,’ and claimed it was a perfect job for the Solo boys. So far only their rooms and the kitchen were suitable, and the bathroom was _almost_ ready. Ben was getting tired of his dad claiming the hose outside was _good enough_ for a few days. It was July after all.

Once on the lower level, he rounded the corner into the bare living room.

They had one sofa and coffee table where the Chinese to-go boxes from dinner still sat.

A whimpering wail emerged from behind the sofa. The baby!

Ben rushed to the other side of the room, stumbling to a stop a few feet away. He gapped at the sight, blinking.

Bundled up in a warm, fuzzy white blanket, laid a dark haired baby.

So that meant…Ben did hear right—A baby _was_ crying in the living room!

This was _impossible_.

Shoving his glasses up, Ben furiously rubbed his eyes. He believed if he scrubbed his eyelids hard enough, the baby would disappear.

Dropping his hands, he peeked an eye open.

Nope, baby was still there.

But her cries were now faint, as though sensing another person nearby.

Deciding to come closer, Ben crouched on his knees and crawled cautiously to the baby.

Her eyes were screwed shut, her plumpy newborn face twisted in anguish. She must have been having a difficult time sleeping, her legs kicking erratically in her swaddle.

“Shh,” Ben hushed lightly, his hands hovering by her.

Lifting his head up, he glanced at the stairs. His dad must have been sleeping deeply if he hadn’t heard anything. That meant Ben had to do something, or else the poor baby would be upset forever. He wasn’t too sure if he could listen to her cry for another minute, let alone longer.

Turning back to the baby determined, Ben gently loosened the tight blanket. Her little arms wiggled free, her tiny fists waving in the air out of her control. Her flailing hand caught his as he tried to shuffle back.

Almost instantaneously her pinched expression smoothed and her whimpers came to startling halt. Surprisingly, she relaxed at the touch. Soft, fierce fingers held on to his thumb. Ben froze, too scared to move away from her.

Her eyes then blinked open lazily.

Mild, affectionate hazel stared innocently back at him in wonder.

“Hi,” he whispered, unable to help but grin back. He glanced down at the blanket, a name embroidered in forest green on the corner. “Hi, Rey.”

She gurgled back, Ben giggling in return.

“How did you get here?” He asked, eyebrows furrowing. His concern for Rey spiked. “Where are your mommy and daddy?”

She cooed, Ben frowning slightly. Seeing his expression, she began to whine. Quickly, he smiled, hoping she’d calm down again.

She did.

Huh.

A wayward hand then thumped the side of his head. Little fingers then yanked happily on his ear.

“Hey, don’t do that!” He grumbled. She laughed heartily at his misfortune, playing with the shell of his ear. “It’s not funny.”

Her toothless, chubby smile was difficult to ignore, Ben letting her play with his hair and ear.

“You are alright for a baby,” he said to her, knowing she wouldn’t understand.  

Suddenly her hand was no longer in his hair.

Peaking up, he felt the air leave his lungs.

Rey was no longer there.

Gone. Out of thin air.

“ _DAD_!”

 

* * *

 

**Present Day**

**“** Do…” Dr. Andor bit his lips together in deep thought, unsure of how to address the issue.

Rey didn’t blame him. A client yelling into possible thin air or possibly a random man—the verdict was still up for debate—right before their session must have been either amusing or off putting.

Or worse—Both.

He opened his mouth again, a pathetic croak coming out before he nodded once to himself. “Do—Do you want to _explain_ why you assaulted that man out there?”

“It is not assault if he is not real.”

A breathy chuckle and a forced smile came from Dr. Andor. He clasped his hands together on his knee, leaning forward slightly.

“Rey—he is _real_.”

“No he is _not_ ,” she gritted out.

Petulantly, she crossed her arms over her chest. Her dark slate blue coat puffed at the movement before deflating a second later. Dr. Andor offered to take her coat and hang it up, but Rey declined. Sure it was mildly uncomfortable to wear during the session, but it brought a sense of security. By leaving her coat on, she could leave without hassle whenever she wanted to—like run after Ben and prove he is indeed _not real_.

But she’d been pulled away and ushered into Dr. Andor’s office before there were any further  _altercations_.

She scoffed at the word once it fell from the therapists lips.

She knew what she saw. She saw Ben. And Ben was not real.

Ben was _not_ real.

_Ben was not real?_

Ben…cannot be real.

“Then, how is he _not_ real?” Dr. Andor asked in his eerily calm yet smooth voice.

He must have passed his bedside manner with flying colors. Wait—did therapist’s have to work on bedside manner? Rey wasn’t too sure, her experience with doctors and physicians limited to her general practitioners and Dr. Skywalker. Not that Skywalker was the best therapist out there; he simply was what worked best for her for the time being.

“Didn’t my files get sent over or whatnot?”

Understandably, she did not want to rehash her life story to a new therapist. It took years for Skywalker to learn about her mythical Ben. He already had an inkling but didn’t pressure her to tell him. He was a grumpy yet patient man, something that was a relief for a young, lonely child but aggravating as a stubborn teenager.

Sensing her apprehension, Dr. Andor grinned gently. “Ms. Kenobi, I have your file and information. Everything was transferred over nicely, but I believe we must start—”

“Please don’t—”

“—From scratch.” He finished firmly. “I don’t know you, and I haven’t looked into your file because as a professional, I need to make my own conclusions without the influence of others. Your last therapist worked with you for years, since you were a child. You have changed and grown since then, and I think this can be beneficial.”

 _Damn_.

He had a point; no wonder he was highly recommended.

While she’d like to keep the “Ben Factor” (as she’d like to call it) to herself, she was trapped. Her outburst kind of killed her initial plans to be mum until it was inevitably brought up. Dr. Andor would be able to identify her poorly weaved together lies.

Clearing her throat, Rey held her head high. If she was going to admit this little issue, she was going to admit it with pride. “I…I don’t think that man is real because—,” she swallowed tightly, her eyes focusing on the lovely sunset portrait hanging on the wall behind him.

Oranges blended messily in harmony with purples and blues, an honest reflection of the beauty and despair of the day ending.

She’d need to ask him where he found the painting. Because despite his headstrong direction…she supposed he wasn’t half bad. If there was one thing Rey could appreciate about Dr. Andor’s office was the warm and welcoming atmosphere the small space exuded. It calmed her, reminding her of her grandfather’s office back at home—

Well, her _former_ home.

“I was lonely as a child,” she began again, eyes on the painting. Easier to talk without looking someone in the eyes. “I think…No I am _sure_ I created an imaginary friend to cope with the loneliness.”

“Most children do,” Dr. Andor supplied matter-of-factly. “It’s normal.”

“But…” She took a deep breath. Now or never. “Most kids don’t have imaginary friends for the _entirety_ of their lives.”

He didn’t react, but continued to stare at her with a general sense of caring. Maybe he was deep in thought, based off the small crease between his eyebrows.

“What I am trying to say is—that man who is apparently _real_ —” Her face scrunched in pain, the thought seemingly unfathomable but the interaction glaringly burned in her mind. Looking back, he appeared just as stunned as her. “He is my imaginary friend.”

Silence fell between the two.

Hesitantly, Rey cracked an eye open.

Dr. Andor’s watchful gaze was still calm, but his mouth was pulled into a sharp frown.

“So, you are saying the man you were yelling at—one, for the record, _everyone could see_ —is your life long imaginary friend?”

Rey paused.

Hearing someone else say it back sounded just as absurd, if not more.

“Yes.”

“Huh,” he uttered, scratching his jaw absentmindedly. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest, incidentally mirroring her. “Interesting.”

Befuddled, she blinked back at him.

“That’s all you have to say?”

Dr. Andor shrugged. “I cannot add or say more without doing some research of my own—”

“Why aren’t you more, I don’t know, freaked out?” Rey implored, sitting up straighter.

“Me freaking out would not help either me or you,” he said simply.

Working her jaw for a response, Rey could not help but be miffed by his nonchalant attitude. This was her life they were talking about.

“But this isn’t _normal_!” she insisted heatedly.

“But this is _your_ normal,” Dr. Andor replied, his voice steadier, almost reassuring. “Like you said, this man—”

“We kind of grew up together in a way—” she mumbled the correction, though Dr. Andor did not catch it.

“—Has been with you for your entire life. However, from what I can infer, you are an intelligent young woman who has made a life for herself. While… _odd_ ,” he put delicately, raising an eyebrow, “and something I am definitely going to look into, for our purposes today we are going to accept this as _fact_ and move forward.”

She gapped, feeling a weight lifted off her shoulders. Though a bleak concern flicked in her chest. “Just like that?"

“Just like that,” he echoed. “My job isn’t to ‘fix’ you. I am here to help you understand and that means sometimes I am not going to have answers.” He shrugged a little helplessly, though Rey felt his honesty in his words and actions. “This a process and progress takes time.”

“But what do I do about the fact my imaginary friend might be _real_ —” The word seemed to always catch itself in her throat, as though speaking it aloud makes it truer than it already proved to be. “A real human being that I never freaking knew?!”

Hot tears spilled unforgivingly down her face. A choky, mocking laugh fumbled out of her.

Of course, she’d be crying over Ben. _Again_.

He had a way of bringing unintentional pain, even when he did absolutely nothing. His mere existence, or possible lack of, caused a tug of war in her soul. One of festering loneliness, and the other of incomprehensible joy. He brought light where ever he went even when he did not believe it.

On one hand, she wanted to desperately believe Ben was real. On the other…well then that meant someone was always truly there, and could have been there in person. Helped when her granddad died, or when she struggled to make it through school when she felt completely and utterly alone. To somehow not be convinced it was her mind attempting to cope with trauma.

Desperately she huffed, pushing down her near hysterics into the bottom of her gut.

Across from her Dr. Andor silently handed her the tissue box.

“You handle it like any other real friend—talk to them about it when you see them again.”

 

* * *

 

“Does the fifteenth of November work for you?” The receptionist asked, clicking away on her keyboard.

On the other side of the desk, Rey nodded mutely.

After talking about Ben, Dr. Andor asked about her usual routine and before Rey knew it the rest of the hour was up. All these years and she still became stunned when an hour session passed by in a blink of an eye.

Glancing around, Rey realized the office was preparing to close for the afternoon, their hours shorter on Mondays. There weren’t any more clients in the waiting area and most of the counsellors left for the day.

Unintentionally her eyes drifted to where Ben stood a mere hour ago. If Ben was real…then he apparently was a client at this office as well. That meant he must live in the area or at least within a driving distance. Didn’t he mention he was seeing a new therapist to—

A small murmur of frustration came from the receptionist.

“Oh dear, it looks like the printer is out of paper—” the woman said, starting to stand up. “Wait right here, I need to go to run to the supply room and pick up a rem,” she smiled politely at Rey, unaware of the ill-advised plan brewing in the young woman’s mind. “Then I can print you your reminder.”

Cheerly, the woman went off to take care of the matter. The instant she turned corner, Rey sprang into action.

She rushed to the open side of the receptionist desk and flipped over the tinted overlay on the computer screen. The weekly office calendar was up, Rey’s name blinking where it was just imputed. Using the mouse, she quickly scrolled back up a week and a half. Scanning the array of scheduled appointments and meetings, she quickly found the days date. She clicked it—

_Poe Dameron_

_Kaydel Ko Connix_

_Dopheld Mitaka_

_Ben Solo—_

Rey’s heart stopped on the name, before logic finally kicked back in. She clicked on his name, his personal information popping up in separate dialog box. Frantically she searched for a loose piece of paper, grabbing an obnoxious kitten sticky note from the desk.

Grabbing a pen, she wrote down his address and phone number, periodically checking over her shoulder.

Once done, she shoved the sticky note into her pocket—

“Goodness, I didn’t mean to take so long,” the receptionist apologized, calling out from down the hall.

Swiftly, Rey closed the tabs and rolled back on calendar, only far enough until this week and dropped the tint back down. Almost tripping on her feet, she got to the other side of the desk with less than a second to spare.

Awkwardly, Rey faked a smile as the receptionist sat back down and placed the half rem into the bottom of the printer.

Turning back to the computer, the woman frowned. Panic struck Rey, until the woman shook her head good naturedly. “Gosh, this computer is dinosaur old. It jumped back to the previous week!” she joked lightly, Rey chuckling along politely.

Soon the reminder for her next appointment was printed and pocketed, Rey heading out the door with a mumbled ‘goodbye’.

Briskly, she walked down the street until she reached the major crosswalk on Galactic Ave. Waiting for the light to change, Rey pulled out the sticky note.

 _Ben Solo_  

She need to know…she needed to know if he was her Ben. _Now_.

 

* * *

 

 

**September 27, 1998**

 

“Come on you can say it,” Ben encouraged, rolling the bouncy ball back to Rey. “It’s easy— _Ben_.” He stressed the word strongly, the baby staring at him.

“ _Bbbbb_.” She raspberried the sound stubbornly, her sloppy bangs flying up from her puffs of air. “Bbbbbeeeee.”

Her second attempt was better. Ben would take that as a win. He and Rey had been working on sounds and words for a couple of weeks. She couldn’t say much beyond ‘yes’ and ‘no’.

After her first couple of appearances, Ben realized he should probably learn about babies and their developments. He didn’t want to end up accidentally hurting Rey, especially since she was slowly becoming his best friend.

Making friends…wasn’t easy. Due to move, Ben had to go to a new school and was forced to meet new classmates and people. The only person in class who talked to him was Tallie Lintra, and it was because his teacher assigned her as his science partner for their electricity project.

His dad said it happens to the best of them, claiming he didn’t have a best friend until he was an adult. The grumbled confession made Ben feel a little bit better about his situation. His dad even joked he could be Ben’s best friend if he really wanted to; Ben shook his head and excused himself early from dinner.

His dad found it hilarious. Ben tried not to be annoyed by it.

With Rey it was easy to talk about his day. She gurgle back and listened intently. Sure, she liked to play with his ears, but it was a simple price to pay.

Rey patted the ball, bouncing it a little. Grinning, she rolled it to him, their little game resuming.

“B-E-N. Ben.” He sounded out his name slowly. “You can do it. I believe in—”

“Ben, who are you talking to?”

The happy bubble surrounding Rey and Ben went out in a definitive _pop_.

He was alone again.

His head whipped to the doorway, where his mother stood. She was dressed in her nice work clothes, and her long brown hair piled into braid-crown. For a moment he was confused why she was at the house. She had an apartment in the city, closer to her firm.

Then he remembered it was Wednesday. They went out to dinner together on Wednesdays.

Patiently Leia waited for him to reply.

Ben’s gaze fell to where Rey had been.

“Uh…no one?”

Leia pursed her lips, walking into the room. Despite the possibility of wrinkling her clothes, she crouched to where his bouncy ball sat. “Are you sure?”

She held the ball out to him.

Ben stared back at her unblinkingly.

He never told anyone about Rey. It felt _wrong_ to tell people. Even his parents. As much as Han and Leia loved him, he knew they wouldn’t understand his friendship with Rey.

Lying was wrong and bad, but…

“I’m sure, Mom. I wasn’t talking to anyone.”

Her head cocked to the side, eyeing him carefully. They didn’t spend as much time together as before, Leia busy with work, but she was still his mom and knew him well.

And clearly by the stern yet inquisitive look on her face, she did not believe a word he said.

Face hard, he held his hand out for the ball.

Nodding once, she handed the ball to him. “Alright, son.” She stood back up, smile down at him. “Make sure you put on some shoes; we’ll be leaving in a few minutes.”

The moment she left, Ben sprang into action. He shoved his shoes on and grabbed his jacket, rushing to follow her as quietly as he could. Taking two steps at a time, he stopped on the landing, hearing his mom and dad talking in the living room.

“…and you never noticed?”

Han scoffed, “Princess, kid’s have imaginary friends all the time—”

“Yes, when they are _four_ Han—not eleven, almost _twelve_.”

“He struggles making friends at school. I just figured he made someone up to help cope with it all,” his dad said with a sigh. “I honestly didn’t think it would be that big of a deal.”

Silence fell between the two. Not hearing anything, Ben leaned forward as far as he could without being seen.

“I…I didn’t know he was struggling making friends. He never said anything,” his mom said, a quiver in her voice.

“Yeah…His teachers love him, one of the smartest kids in class. It’s just socially, he struggles. A lot.”

“Maybe—maybe we should have listened to Luke and put him in therapy,” she admitted quietly. “I knew the divorce would be too hard on him—”

“Let’s discuss this later,” Han huffed. Ben heard his foot steps get closer, but didn’t have the energy to move. “We’ll figure this out.”

Ben gulped, dropping down to sit on the bottom step.

He knew then, they would never understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REY!!! And poor little Ben! He just wants Rey to say his name goddamnit! 
> 
> Well, hopefully this answered some of your questions and left you wondering more!
> 
> Did anybody else notice Jyn and Cassian have different methods? Can't wait for those two to meet ;)
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated; I love discussing the fic with readers!
> 
> Follow me on twitter @intpslytherin97


	3. The Hype

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What in the world is San Tekka hiding? And Rey and Ben are awkward little ducks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> Here is the next chapter! If I haven't replied to your comment yet, I will soon!
> 
>  
> 
> [Updated Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ssXMxWtwmIakjQTaNTXER)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Typos will be fixed later!
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy! :D

**Holding On To You**

**Part One**

**Chapter 3: The Hype**

 

* * *

 

 

**Present Day**

 

Ben knocked and knocked and knocked—

And the damn man still wouldn’t open the door.

“Dr. San Tekka!” He leaned over to the curtained window, trying to peek through with little success. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he raised his hand to knock once more.

“Kid, what the hell are you doing?”

Looking over his shoulder, Ben found the very man he’d been looking for at the bottom of the townhouse’s front steps.

“San Tekka,” Ben exclaimed, nearly out of breath. He rushed down the steps to the frail older man. He was wrapped up in a wool coat, his corgi leashed beside him. He must have been coming from a walk. He began to where his age well and with pride, instead of forcing himself to keep it together for the sake of his clients. “Sir, I need to speak with you—”

“Why are you here? Didn’t I tell you I am retired?” The man replied sternly, an amused glint in his eyes.

Ben flushed, slightly embarrassed he was already running to his childhood therapist after his first session with Dr. Erso. He was really proving not to be the most adaptable person.

“Yes, but—”

“Then go home, Benjamin,” San Tekka ordered. He bypassed the younger man and went straight up the steps.

Panic coursed Ben at the immediate decline; he didn’t expect this at all. The old man was the first person Ben thought to run to when he saw her. _In the fucking flesh_. He drove without stop the moment he ran out of the Force Temple offices.

She couldn’t be real.

He told himself for _years_ she couldn’t be real.

And then she kicked him in the shin. And that pain felt absurdly _real_ to be some figment of his imagination.

Part of him wanted to stay and wait for her, to confirm all the theories he conjured during their time together. To know if she really was an artist, if she truly dreamed of visiting all the greenest lands she could find. If her tabby cat was as fat as she claimed. To know if in her glowing hazel eyes were as effervescent when the natural sun cast upon her. He needed to know everything about her and then more because if she was real—if she was undeniably real—then he wasn’t _alone_.

However, Ben was terrified to know the truth despite his incredible longing for knowledge. He ran out the office at the first opportunity, ignoring Dr. Erso’s calls for him. He’d need to reschedule his second appointment, but he couldn’t be confined in the office any longer than necessary, or else he’d have a nervous breakdown.

The drive did little to clear his mind, his car radio busted.

“But San Tekka—”

A deep, tired sigh came from the man. “Benjamin—”

“She’s real!” Ben blurted out. “Rey—she’s real. She’s a real girl.”

The old man paused on the second to last step.

A dead silent weight rested between them. Ben waited impatiently for him to say something, anything. Even if it was a string of curses. He just needed the man to know—to know for once Ben wasn’t losing his mind or experiencing a hyperactive imagination. She was real.

San Tekka then finished climbing the rest of the stairs to his home.

“ _Go home_ , Benjamin,” he repeated tiredly.

“What?” Ben uttered, completely lost as to why San Tekka was ignoring him. “But I just told you the girl I thought was a figment of my imagination is _real_ —”

“And I am telling you to go home,” the older man replied, unlocking his front door. His corgi happily entered the townhouse, San Tekka releasing the leash. “Ben, I am no longer your therapist. You need to discuss this with Dr. Erso; she can prescribe you medication for these hallucinations.”

Ben felt the wind knocked out of him at San Tekka’s strained, rehearsed words. The man’s back was turned to him, the reality of the rejection proclaimed by his hunched and exhausted form.

His therapist for the last eighteen years didn’t believe him. After years of assuring and reassuring, being a patient listening ear about his parent’s divorce and of his friend Rey, San Tekka did not believe him.

Apparently lies were the foundation of their relationship, a truth Ben did not know how to swallow.

Suddenly Ben felt thirteen again, ushered from office to office, to find therapist who would work well with him. To find someone who wouldn’t slap a label on him and spout out medical jargon because his only fault was having a high developed imaginary friend.

Well, _former_ imaginary friend.

She was real.

She had to be real.

“She…she’s not a hallucination,” Ben muttered pathetically, willing himself to take a step away. “I saw her. She’s real and—”

“If she is truly real, why are you here?” San Tekka asked.

Unable to find the words to answer, Ben remained silent.

“That is what I thought.”

San Tekka then entered his home and shut the door tightly behind him.

In the cool November air, Ben stood by the townhouse a moment longer. The old man’s words rolled over in his mind, sticking to him stronger than any adhesive. He could not ignore Rey’s existence, but Ben ran at the first opportunity.

What did that say about him?

Maybe San Tekka was right…maybe he should just go home.

He had a feeling he’d find his answers there.

 

* * *

 

**December 9, 2000**

 

Dr. San Tekka frowned at Ben, writing down the little details he told him.

“Do you want to talk about your friend?”

He asked this question every time Ben came in, and he gave the therapist the same answer every single time.

“ _No_.”

The man watched the thirteen year old carefully, setting aside his notepad.

Ben squirmed under his stare, opting to play with the cuff of his itchy Hanukkah sweater. Uncle Luke got the entire family a matching set, producing the deep blue and silver knit contraption to Ben with the largest and forced smile in existence.

Begrudgingly, he wore it. Mostly because his parents would ground him if he didn’t.

“Ben, you do know I won’t say anything to your parents, right?”

“That’s what the last therapist said,” he shot back, remembering his ill-fated meetings with Dr. Windu.

The man told everything to his parents, to the point Han and Leia would bring it up during dinners or at home. Ben felt awkward opening up, choosing to simply say he had a best friend and he didn’t want to talk about her.

San Tekka nodded in understanding. “I am sorry you experience that Ben, but I am being honest. I will not tell your parents anything unless I think it puts your safety at risk.”

Ben quirked an eyebrow at the remark.

“I think that can be subjective,” he muttered. “You might say I am crazy, or think I need to take a bunch of pills. I’ve read books, I know.”

San Tekka released a chuckle, grinning at Ben. “You’re a smart kid.”

“I know.”

“The difference between myself and Dr. Windu is I am a _counselor_ , Ben. Dr. Windu was a clinical psychologist. His job was to diagnose you and prescribe medication.” He then sat back, not bothering to pick his notebook back up. “Your dad wanted you to switch to counseling because he thinks it is better and I agree.”

“You agree because we are paying you,” Ben shot back.

“Yes, but I am just someone you can talk to about anything. School, your parents, your friends…”

“And they don’t…they _won’t_ know?” Ben asked for clarification, his voice cracking pathetically.

San Tekka smiled. “They won’t know. It’s called doctor-patient confidentiality.”

A distinct _pop_ and _fade_ sounded in the room.

His day suddenly got a little brighter.

Playing with her dolls on the floor was Rey. Her hair was pulled into three buns on the back of her head, no longer in the fun little twin braids he did the previous night.

She didn’t notice him there, absorbed in the story she was creating. She spoke in hushed whispers, doing voices for her dolls. She did that ever since he caught her a few months back, she claiming she didn’t like it when people watched her play.

He didn’t blame her; he was the same way when he was little.

“ _Ben_.”

Regretfully, Ben pulled away from their bubble and back into the session.

“Her name is Rey and that’s all I feel comfortable sharing,” he said stubbornly. He wanted to protect Rey as best he could, but he still needed to live his life. And part of that was talking to the therapist his dad encouraged him to see.

“Okay,” San Tekka said without pressure.

Ben exhaled a sigh of relief.

 

* * *

 

**Present Day**

 

“Hey, I know I said you weren’t real for all those years—scratch that, _my entire life_ —but funny thing is you _are_ real and—” Rey inhaled sharply dropping down to a lousy crouch in the middle of the hallway. “I am a jackass,” she muttered, face down into her knees.

For the last half hour, she’d been standing in front of what she presumed was his apartment based off of his information at the counsellor’s office. Not that he’d have a reason to lie on official documents; he was an honest man despite his occasional poor judgement.

Initially, Rey planned to go home and wait for him to appear.

Except she could not shake the creeping feeling their connection pattern would be thrown off again. It happened from time to time, usually when something drastic occurred in her life, or her schedule changed in a major fashion. Such as when her grandad died, or when she attended college. Not to mention it was a ticking time bomb through out her middle school and high school years, Ben coming and going for days sometimes weeks at a time.

Knowing he was a real person suddenly made those spotty parts of their time together make sense. He did have his own problems, he divulged in a few, though she thought these complications in his life were a manifestation of her own psyche. She shared this theory once with Skywalker; he chuckled and told her to not read too much whack-job forms on the internet.

She tried to listen to his warnings, experiencing little success.

So when she reached the stoplight, Rey made a decision. She was going to see Ben, she was going to talk to him in person. She was _not_ going to wait on some strange connection they shared or whatever it was bring them together. For once in her life she might have control over a situation and she was going to take advantage of it.

Taking the steps two at a time up the stairs, she imagined Ben waiting for her to show up and ready to talk. Or not talk. To do something other than kick and shove each other like little kids.

A twinge of regret lingered at the memory; she didn’t mean to kick _that_ hard. It just kind of happened.

She also didn’t intend for Ben to _not be home_ when she showed up knocking and full of adrenaline and hope at his door.

All her energy began to diminish the longer she waited.

Her crouch turned into a lame slump on the floor, her back propped by the wall.

She glanced up at Ben’s door with a tugging frown.

“Why did I even bother?” She crossed her arms over her knees, threading her fingers together tightly. “I mean, if he really wanted to see me then he would have stayed. He would have waited—”

Down the hall, the staircase door swung open loudly. Instinctively, Rey snapped her mouth shut.

Then her heart stopped.

Deep in thought, Ben walked down the hall. His head titled down, his dark locks falling over his eyes and forehead. He could only see where he went due to his eyes expertly trained on the floor. He was wearing that stupid black sweater, the one he probably had multiples of because black on black apparently never went out of style for him.

He looked exactly how she always imagined…or rather seen, but more alive. Their was a distinct gate to his step she never noticed before, and each step brought down the weight of the world he seemed to love to carry on his shoulders. Without touching him, she knew he was solid and firm. A gust of wind to him would be a mere feather brush against his form.

His steps slowed as he came closer to her, stopping a couple feet away.

Unabashedly, she stared at him. Waiting.

Ben lifted his gaze, and blinked back, stunned to see her sitting there. His eyes scrutinized her being until he observing her sharp eyes delicately. A tremor fumbled through him, his left hand shaking until he fisted his hands and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Uh, hi—” Rey croaked.

“Hi,” he echoed back. He swallowed tightly, shifting from foot to foot, dropping his head a little lower. He gazed back up at her hesitantly. “You—you are really here right? I not just—”

Hurriedly, Rey stood up, concerned he’d back away like a frightened animal. “Yes! Yes, I’m really, really here. See?”

She reached over and pinched the skin of his wrist.

“Ow!” Ben flinched, nearly whacking her hand away. Pouting, he rubbed the tender skin. “Would you please stop doing that?”

“How else am I supposed to prove I am really here?” she said with an aggravated huffed. Reaching down to her right she picked up her backpack and slung back on her shoulder.

“By saying ‘yes, I’m really here’!” Ben retorted back bluntly.

“And you would believe me?”

“Of course.”

His transparent statement faltered Rey.

The Ben she knew trusted her undoubtedly. Somehow his annoyed and heated reply brought more reassurance than sweet and encouraging words ever could.

“You’re…you’re a real person,” she stated again, trying to grasp the idea with him standing right in front of her rather than a frazzled memory.

“Yes—why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you were in my mind—”

“We’ll you were in mine too.”

Rey mirrored his pose, though more so hugging herself than standing tall.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” Ben admitted, watching her with both fright and awe. “I mean, we know each other, but I always thought I made up everything.”

“Me too,” she mumbled apologetically.

His jaw tightened. “I know. You shouted it at me enough times. I _know_.”

Rey could not help but feel guilt at the remark, recalling several times she screeched at the top of her lungs for him to just leave her. Leave her alone. Let her be. How he already abandoned her. How all her childish wishes that he’d be _real_ were dumb and stupid, because he never would be real.

She was quite the emotional seventeen year old.

And Ben…well maybe he really was wandering around through life like a lost soul until he finally came to his senses. She wouldn’t know. He distanced himself after her outburst, and they were barely getting back to where they use to be.

Now knowing he was real, and he knowing she was real—well this was something she did not know how to handle with grace. If she could ever handle anything with ease and grace.

Shrugging helplessly, Rey decided to force any uneasiness she felt down and be straightforward. “Well, this is a real mind fuck.”

Ben snorted; Rey’s heart lifted at the gesture. “Yeah, yeah it sure is.”

 

* * *

 

**October 17, 2001**

 

“Ben, how old are you?” Rey’s little voice asked.

The more she talked and rambled, the more Ben began to notice she had an accent. A British accent; he couldn’t place the exact location, some of her syllables swallowed and mumbled due to her age, but a distinctly British accent nonetheless.

This revelation was both fascinating and terrifying.

He didn’t dwell on it too long.

“Thirteen, almost fourteen,” he answered lifting his head from notepad, halting his calligraphy.

“You’re littler than I thought,” she mumbled, resting her chin in her hand. She was sitting beside him, watching as he finished the math problems easily or take his painstaking time on his calligraphy until he got it just right. Whenever she showed up when he was working at his desk she liked to sit right beside him and ask questions.

If there was one thing Rey was exceptional at, it was asking Ben questions. With anyone else, Ben would have lost his patience ages ago, but with Rey he gave her thoughtful answers.

He quickly learned in the early days of their… _friendship_ —he didn’t know what to call this connection they shared—he could not tell a single lie to her. Not even a little fib. Honesty and truth flowed through their bond and nothing else. It was the few one pure, untainted relationships Ben shared in his life.

“Do you have a mummy and daddy?”

“Yes.”

“ _Oh_.”

Ben frowned, turning to Rey. A solemn expression fell over the five year old, her lips pursed.

“Why ‘oh’?” he asked, concerned for her.

“I don’t think I have a mummy and daddy anymore,” she said innocently, puzzled by the matter. “Grandad says they went to go live with God—I guess God is cooler than me.” Her words were earnest, buttoned with a halfhearted shrug. She ultimately seemed unbothered by her Grandad’s excuse and reasoning.

Ben refrained a snort—he should not be laughing at the prospect of death, especially the death of someone’s parents. But Rey clearly did not understand the ominous circumstances of life and death, and that her parents were never going to come back.

He did not know what to do with this conundrum.

“Are…are you not sad about this, Rey?” he asked hesitantly.

Ben never experienced the death of a loved one; all his grandparents were long gone by the time he was born. He found this both disappointing and relieving. He’d seen enough classmates cry over the passing of family and Ben was completely sure he never wanted to experience such a loss.

He felt Rey’s confusion stir inside his own soul.

“Maybe,” she mumbled, picking up a crayon and paper from thin air. She colored stubbornly. “I don’t know. Grandad says it’s okay to be sad…but I don’t feel like that.”

Rey seemed more upset over the fact she felt nothing rather than _something_.

“It’s okay, cos I got you and Grandad,” she said brightly, grinning at him. Her bottom left front tooth was gone and another was slowly growing its way in.

Playfully, he ruffled her hair.

“That’s right—you’ll always have me.”

 

* * *

 

**Present Day**

 

“Hey, are you staying longer?” Jyn Erso asked, leaning against the door frame. She’d been heading for the door when she noticed the light in Dr. Andor’s office still on. Against her desire to leave the office and actually try and enjoy her afternoon off, she was decided to be considerate and check in on the man.

Sitting at his desk, Cassian looked up from the array of books laid out before him. A distinct image of a mosaic was opened. A light and dark side were shown, almost resembling the yin-yang symbol, however it seemed as though two beings came as one in the image.

“Dr. Erso—”

“We’ve been over this,” she stressed, stepping further into the office. “You can call me Jyn.”

“Dr. Erso,” he began again, blatantly ignoring her correction. As he did every single time they interacted. “Have you ever heard of the Prime Jedi?”

Her mouth twitched in recognition of the phrase. Closing the door behind her, she took the seat opposite his desk. “Sure—San Tekka is a firm believer in the idea of the Force. How it connects all things and whatnot. But actual Force sensitivity, people who are a tuned to this _Force_ , is…” She smiled tightly, before uttering the words dryly, “A myth.”

Cassian pinched his lips together, deciding whether or not to breach confidentiality. He need Rey to trust him, but working alone on this matter, especially when it seemed to concern a client of Jyn’s.

Rubbing his hands together, Cassian dropped his voice and tried his best to speak casually on the matter.

“One of my clients claimed her imaginary friend is real…and happens to be one of your clients.”

Jyn’s eyebrows flew up at the information.

“Oh,” she uttered. “That’s…odd.” She settled on saying, though her lips pursed and she chewed vehemently on the inside of her cheek.

“And I believe her,” Cassian continued. However Jyn did not react to this statement. “I believe the man she thought to be her imaginary friend happens to be a living breathing person.”

“And why are you adamant he is my client?”

“Because I saw them interact, the man coming from your office,” Cassian explained, before leaning forward, calm brown eyes stern. “Is there a reason San Tekka gave you this man as a client? You have been overbooked for months. He purposely spread out all his cliental to the rest of the office.”

“Dr. San Tekka was using his best judgement—”

“Or merely hiding something.”

A tense silence fell over the two.

“Why are you so concerned?” Jyn asked, her stubborn icy gaze unwavering. “If San Tekka were hiding something, it wouldn’t matter now—”

“Because he handed off his number one problem to you—”

“Ben is _not_ a problem,” Jyn said between gritted teeth before realizing her mistake. Cassian raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to explain her little slip up. Shifting in her seat, Jyn attempted to remain poise, however her gritty nature had a way of seeping through her painstakingly mended cracks. “Ben is— _was_ —San Tekka’s longest client.”

“And why is he here when he is seeing an ‘imaginary’ girl?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Have you been reading my client’s files?”

“No,” Cassian shrugged nonchalantly. “It doesn’t take much to connect the dots. My client yelling at your client and you _conveniently_ brushing over the incident.”

“I am not brushing over it—I am merely not obsessing over it,” she declared icily, her feigned pleasantness becoming more and more palpable as she struggle to remain composed. “Unlike you, I do not need to be the saving grace to someone who clearly needs to see a _psychologist_ —”

Cassian bristled at the jab, feeling his pride swell the more she pecked. “Like Ben? If he has been having these episodes—

“They are not episodes—”

“Then how do you explain this imaginary friend who is very much real—”

“Can you just shut up for once?” Jyn roared, clutching the stiff armchair for dear life. “Not everything needs to be nitpicked and pulled apart to be examined Dr. Andor. Sometimes people have coping mechanisms—”

“I have my degree, and a whole lot longer than _you,_ Erso. I know what ‘coping mechanisms’ are—this is not it,” he said nearly out of breath.

Cassian’s insistence was agitating Jyn, while her aloof demeanor was pushing him over the edge. It was taking all of him to not demand what the hell San Tekka was hiding with her. He had a strong inkling what transpired between their two clients, but he could not move forward if she did not confirm.

“What do you want me to say, Dr. Andor? My client has experienced seeing this woman—”

“ _Rey_ ,” he supplied readily. “He name is Rey, and do not deny you have looked into my client’s information as well—”

“Well of course I did,” she admitted without shame. “She came with a referral from Dr. Skywalker.”

“Dr. Skywalker?” Cassian muttered, “I respect him, but think he is still—”

“Whatever you think he is, he referred her here for a reason,” Jyn interrupted. “He and San Tekka have been colleagues for years. Both studied at Yavin University together.”

“This doesn’t explain why you have an interest in my client or keeping tabs on her before she even came in today,” Cassian continued, mentally saving the information for later. “Unless you know something about this ‘imaginary friend’ situation.”

Across from him, Jyn sat stiff, her jawlocked as she attempted to take deep breaths. Clutching her hands together on her lap, she contemplated her options.

She could ignore Cassian’s questions and experience subtle hostility or worse, the man digging into information he did not need to be privy to. The less appealing option was the explain her own theory, one both San Tekka and Skywalker had hinted at, but never moved forward with due to their own fears and loyalties.

Jyn’s gaze drifted to the books on his desk. All surrounding psychic and mental connections, specifically the theories and stories of the Jedi Prime.

It seemed like the man already dived head first in the right direction, leaving Jyn with the second option.

“Whatever I tell you must remain in this office,” she ordered quietly. “You can’t tell either Rey or Ben—based off their reactions and personalities, they were probably too spooked by the experience to take action.”

His eyes narrowed. “I have reason to believe otherwise,” he said in contradiction.

“I highly doubt it.”

She reached over the desk and grabbed the book with the mosaic of the Jedi Prime. Curiously, Cassian observed her carefully, waiting her next move. Her tired gaze lingered the image a moment longer before she shut the book closed.

“The Jedi Prime is supposedly a myth,” Jyn began, focusing on the hard edges of his desk rather than making eye contact with Cassian himself. “A myth amongst the masses, but a firm belief with the Church of the Force.”

“The Force is….a religion?” Cassian asked, not quite understanding. All he read on the subject supported it was more of an essence than a mystical being, not necessarily worshiped or prayed to, but acknowledged through meditation.

“Of sorts,” she said vaguely, not bothering to get into the details on the matter. “But the Jedi Prime is said to be a Force sensitive, the _original_ Force sensitive. Both dark and light—”

“Everyone knows the stories of the dark and light side,” he interrupted hurriedly, wanting her to get to the point. “They are nearly as old as time.”

“Yes, but they come from truth. Many Force sensitives for years were either nurtured to believe in the dark or the light, nothing in-between…until the majority of the believers died out with the succession of both World Wars for various reasons. Those who were Force sensitive went into deeper hiding, more than they already were, because when there was both light and dark separated, they collided in chaos. There wasn’t a balance.” Her grip on the book became white and strained as she struggled to find the right words to explain the complicated mess of the Force. “Amongst the elders nearly a century ago, spoke of legend where there would be a Force sensitive to bring balance to the Force… but there have been many wrong predictions in the past. Except for now.”

Cassian blinked owlishly at her, chin propped in his hand. “Are…are you implying their—Rey and Ben’s—connection has something to do with an ancient mythical religion?”

Jyn swallowed. “Possibly.”

“How?”

“That’s what we need to figure out.”

He balked. “ _We_?”

Abruptly Jyn stood up and dropped the book back on his desk with a loud _thud_. From above she narrowed her eyes down on him. “Yes, ‘we’. You already stuck your nose where is doesn’t belong.”

“And yours does?” he countered, standing up from his desk. He quickly began to gather his materials and belongings.

Shrugging on her coat, she nodded once, a reserved smirk threatening to emerge. “Yes.”

“You’ve already breached multiple ethical codes—”

“And you have not?” Jyn asked already heading from the door. She didn’t need to look back to know Cassian was following her out. “If you didn’t intend to breach codes or do your own ill-advised research then why did you?” He remained silent; enough of an answer for Jyn. “Part of you already believes in some of that mythical business Dr. Andor.”

Closing his office door behind him, Cassian walked ahead, the two heading down the few short steps to the exit. Holding the door open for her, he smiled charmingly.

“I never said I didn’t, Dr. Erso.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, now I know some of you are not going to be pleased with the fact Ben and Rey and not running into each other's arms at acknowledging the other is real. They are sensitive and guarded people--this situation is a little weird (read: ALOT WEIRD) for them, so their scene together is more of a transitional scene into their moments together in the next chapter. WHICH ARE A HILARIOUS. 
> 
> Anyways lots of little Force explanations happening! One of the major components I had to combat when writing and outlining this fic. Jyn and Cassian clearly have some theories. And San Tekka and Skywalker have their own ideas as well. THE PLOT THICKENS!
> 
> Also, little Rey and Ben. *SOB*
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos always appreciated; I love discussing the fic with readers! :D
> 
>  
> 
> OH! And since many have asked and guessed--All the titles from the chapters (and the title of the fic) comes from Twenty One Pilots songs (And it is going to be a mix of all the albums; like we are talking some of them will be coming from EPs, like Regional Best era). They have amazing music and lyrical content; honestly if you don't like them (I get it, they are not for everyone, my friends have told me this for the last six years XD) I would say look up their lyrics. Sometimes they reflect something in the chapter :D


	4. Screen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next chapter!
> 
> If I haven't responded to your comment, I will soon! :D
> 
> Typos will be fixed later. Also I am posting this half awake XD
> 
> Enjoy!

**Holding On To You**

**Part One**

**Chapter 4: Screen**

 

* * *

 

 

**Present Day**

 

Rey sat in the corner booth nursing her quickly cooling coffee. From her seat she could look out the window and see Ben’s apartment complex across the street.

Of course he lived across the street from a café. He drank the dark beverage all the time, and once joked he drank more coffee than water for the majority of his life.

Now thinking back, he probably wasn’t joking.

Sitting in the seat opposite her, Ben fidgeted with his sweater sleeves. His large hands awkwardly fumbling over each other in a senseless pattern. For years he seemed to possess a confident air, despite have inner turbulence. He knew how to walk with purpose and carried himself to his full height, his anxieties never covering his entire being like a blanket. Instead his quirks creeped out in little ways; fidgety hands, the occasional stutter, the dance of hesitance in his eyes.

Seeing him for years, she already knew these things. Knew how he moved and talked…well specifically how he talked to her. If anyone understood how differently they acted while connected in comparison to when they were not, it was Rey.

In their little bubble, she spoke freely and openly without judgement; a privilege she respected. Her words were sharp but understood, and their was no one else she could speak to with such candor. Not even Finn or Rose because Ben had been there from the beginning.

“I need to know—did you always think I wasn’t real?” Rey asked, deciding to cut to the chase.

She and Ben had been mostly silent for the duration of the time together since he found her in the hall. He suggested they get something to drink and discuss their connection; a walk _possibly_ enough time for him to formulate adequate questions. She highly doubted that.

“I mean, _yeah_ ,” he said bluntly, brows furrowed at the question. “Why _wouldn’t_ I think you weren’t real?” He leaned forward, his voice dropping. “You do realize this was all occurring in our brains right?” Ben raised an eyebrow, a spike of condescension in his eyes. “There is no other possible explanation for how we communicated.”

At his response, she sat up straighter. Her grip on the disposable coffee mug tightens. “Never an inkling? Not even a fleeting thought— Like ‘Oh, she could be a real, breathing person?’”

His head tilted to the side, feigning thought. “No.”

“Liar,” she said with a sharp spat, his tone bristling against her ever diminishing hope. “You did or have, in some way because I know I have.”

“You have seriously thought ‘Ben might be a real person?’ because I find that hard to believe.”

She shrugged. “Well, not in that many words. But in a way, _yes_.” She crossed her arms over her chest, inspecting him sternly. “I have toyed with the idea…especially when you have been there my whole life. I didn’t even full comprehend the matter of your existence, or better yet _lack of_ ,  until I was six!”

“Keep your damn voice down,” he grumbled back, eyes zeroing in on her. “Do you want everyone in here to know what you are talking about?”

Rey tried not to smile smugly at the fact she got him to finally look away from the window.

“Like the barista and half-awake college student care?”

To further prove her point, she waved to the two other occupants. The male barista was cleaning the counter while singing along quietly yet enthusiastically to “Stressed Out” playing low on the radio. On the other side of the café, the said college student looked they were either on the verge of a nervous breakdown or about to fall asleep, their eyes glossed over in exhaustion. The two were too wrapped up in their own worlds to be privy to Rey and Ben’s.

“Okay, valid,” Ben said with an eyeroll. “Still doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be aware. Preferably, I’d like to keep this little discovery between us—”

“And our therapists,” Rey added with an air of disgust. “I don’t hate mine, but I don’t necessarily like him.”

“I don’t think anybody actively likes their shrink, Rey.” Ben frowned, squeezing his hands together under his chin. “They poke and pry until you supposedly come up with the answer for your apparent problems, only to realize they were kind of force feeding you the answer. It is all subliminal.”

Stunned by his heated and adamant reaction, Rey quirked an eyebrow. “Someone clear hates therapy. If you hate it so much, why are you even there?”

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Ben paused for a moment before answering. “I do it because…well I have been in it this long.”

“That shouldn’t be a way to dictate your life.”

“I can ask you the same—why are you back in therapy?”

“Because it is what my grandfather would have wanted—for me to still seek answers,” she said immediately, knowing her words to be honest.

Grandad Kenobi taught her from the beginning to be honest; to do as he said and not as he did. He wasn’t perfect, but he was enough. Taught her the importance of survival and learning everything she could. She’d forever be grateful for his presence in her life, despite his hesitance and hands-off approach half the time.

She wanted answers, to know her place in their confusing lives and strange connection and he encouraged her to go to therapy if she felt it gave her some answers. And it did…for a time. However she merely attended because routine and maybe some semblance of the normal she understood when her Grandad was still around.

“That’s…” Ben dropped his hands on the table, laid out and open. “That’s bullshit. Absolute, fairytale bullshit. Doing it ‘to seek answers’? Rey, you were sent to a shrink because your Grandad thought you weren’t all there in the head—”

“Now you are just being an ass—”

“An asshole who always told you the truth.” He reminded her harshly, Rey trying to ignore the fact how irrevocably right he happened to be. “I swear we have had this conversation before.”

“We _did_ ,” she said, recalling how he’d grown furious when she mentioned therapy all those years ago. She’d been seven years old at the time and too sassy for her own good. Dr. Skywalker thought she was both hilarious and an annoyance. “And it was different then.”

“How is it different no matter how many times we talk about it—”

“Because I thought you weren’t real then!” Her tolerance for his pushing and shoving with his words was thinning ever so slightly. While occasionally tender hearted, Ben could be an undeniable jerk. Even when he was being honest or wasn’t trying to offend, he was cruel and blunt. An intelligent man with a idiot’s mouth. “I thought you weren’t real and everything you said was something my brain was making up—”

Jaw tense, Ben huffed at her stubbornness. “What? At _six_? Rey, come on. You wouldn’t have been able to comprehend—”

“I am far smarter than I believe you give me credit—”

“I never doubted your intelligence,” he assured her, hands once again clenching and unclenching. “All I am saying is…” He squeezed his eyes shut. Inhaling deeply, he shook his head. “You know what? I don’t know what I am saying, because we are talking like we know each other—”

“Because we do,” Rey said with conviction. Her hands laid splayed out on the table top, opposite Ben’s, their finger tips mere centimeters away from each other.

His eyes scanned her face carefully, tracing familiar patterns as she did with his. “I don’t deny that,” he said, voice dropping to barely above a whisper. “But at the same time we don’t know each other, Rey. As much as it fucking hurts to admit that.”

She…could not argue against his opinion.

They were in a strange limbo of mental and emotional intimacy, while never having to experience the vulnerability of truly seeing one another face to face.

But they also understood each other on a level no one else would ever understand.

“Well then…” A distinct prickling behind her eyes; now wasn’t the time to be emotional. She needed to be sure and direct. Be who she knew how to be than floundering in as a nameless position in Ben’s life.

God—Ben was _real_ and had a _life_.

“Well then let’s figure this out—together,” she said, her eye connecting with his. “Like we always have.”

Silently she reached out towards Ben’s clenched hands. He hastily moved his arms away, crossing them over his chest.

A twist of pain lingered like a sudden cough in her chest at his movements.

Apparently baby steps needed to be taken.

“Okay—I want to do that,” he said, his eyes already jumping at the idea of being lost in thought and possibilities.

Ben was thinker, more than he ever gave himself credit or liberty to; some of Rey’s first memories were Ben working on his school work. He loved to learn and discover but for some reason stumbled through his college years.

She always wanted to ask why, not quite understanding why she felt such conflict within her during this time, but decided against it. He flittered in and out randomly in those years, she attempted (poorly) to cherish the few moment she had with him.

“But I have questions of my own.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” she said, her words ending with a chuckle.

“If you really did think I existed—then why the hell did you not try to find me?”

“Why would I try to find someone I always believed to be imaginary?” Ben nodded silently in understanding. “I didn’t even think to wonder if you had a last name until I saw it on file.”

“Seriously?” Ben gapped. “You didn’t even assign me one, like a normal person?”

“I don’t think throwing around the term ‘normal’ is beneficial,” Rey told him tersely, using air quotations on the word. “And no. You were just Ben.” He shifted uncomfortably at the information, a question looming in Rey’s mind. “Wait—did you assign some random last name to me?”

“No!” He exclaimed indignantly. From across the room, the barista perked up at the shout, sending a concerned and curious glance at the two. “No,” he repeated, softer. The man went back to cleaning up. “I didn’t give you a random last name—”

“But you gave me a name?”

“Well, yeah. For myself,” he answered as casually as he could.

“Then what was it?”

“I don’t need to tell you.”

“I feel like I have the right to know, since it is about me.”

He scoffed, before chewing on his lower lip. “Just because we apparently have know each other forever, doesn’t mean you can know everything—”

“Fine. Don’t tell me; I’ll just figure it out later—”

“You barely realized we are both real, how do you think you will figure this out later?”

“Because you are easy to read,” Rey said simply, picking up her coffee and drinking the rest. Ben remained silent, tapping a his fingers on the table top.

He shook his head, a smile threatening to emerge. Schooling his expression, he faced her fully. “But…that means, if you are real then everyone you ever mentioned is also real.”

Rey could not help but think about her Grandad, Luke, and Finn. They were the few she mentioned to Ben, though fleeting in reference, the three men only mentioned in passing and context.

“The same can be said for you,” she shot back, her eyebrows furrowing at the implications. “That means you really _did_ leave your family when—”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Ben interrupted, standing up from his seat. “I am hungry. I’m going to get a muffin or something,” he mumbled before rushing off to the register. He’d been tense for some time, his shoulder relaxing once he left the table.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Rey took a deep breath. Ben was frustrating to say the least, however she choose to stay and wait for him to return.

 

* * *

 

Jyn Erso learned about the Force when she was eight.

Her mother was firm believer in the Force despite her father’s misgivings, and taught Jyn the importance of the light and dark. Reminded her how it was living and breathing, more than a party trick. It was a way to walk through life, believing the Force would guide in the right direction, whichever way it may be.

It wasn’t a surprise for Jyn to be utterly disappointed once she realized she wasn’t Force sensitive. Not that she expected to be. Neither of her parents were and the last know Force sensitive was Anakin Skywalker. The man had been dead for years and little was known about his family besides the fact he had a reclusive son.

However her lack of force sensitivity did not stop Jyn from seeking knowledge. She studied everything she could get her hands on; the mythology, artifacts, even speaking to those who believed in the Force—which were few and far between.

The Force seemed to be on her side when she stumbled upon Dr. Luke Skywalker during her sophomore year of college. He’d been an adjunct for the art department, teaching art theory. Jyn wasn’t particular fond of the subject, preferring to stick to the sciences and socio-interactions, but she needed to fulfill an art credit for her general education requirements.

But she quickly learned her professor’s background was in art therapy, she intrigued by the concept. While she’d never be an art therapist herself, she grew curious of both the methods and the man. Afterall, he shared the same last name with the last known Force sensitive.

“So Skywalker introduced you to San Tekka?” Cassian asked once Jyn briefly explained how she met her mentor.

“Yes.” She nodded once, gently wiping the condensation off her glass. “They both were working on their Ph.D. at the same time. Skywalker helped me get my internship with San Tekka when I moved over to finish school.”

He hummed in thought, his drink long forgotten after he took his first sip. The bar they found themselves at wasn’t obnoxiously busy, but a few groups speckled throughout the space. “And they also happen to believe in the Force?”

“San Tekka—yes. Skywalker? More or less,” she answered honestly. He’d been hesitant to say he so much believed in the Force, but knew the characteristics of Force sensitives. She recalled he even once desired to make a collective of Force sensitives, to resurrect some semblance of the ‘Jedi’. As far she knew, it never happened. “They both knew their ancient religions, same as I did—Skywalker simply had a better grasp on the mechanics of it all.”

“Why would an art therapist want anything to do with the Force religion?” Cassian wondered out loud, rubbing the scuff on his chin. “Unless there was something in it for him.”

“I—” Jyn hesitated for a moment. While Cassian had been a lending ear and unintentionally drawn into the Force mumbo jumbo, she needed to be careful with what she shared. “I…have a theory he might be Force sensitive himself.”

His eyebrow shot up. “That would explain his interest.” An idea spiking, he asked, “You wouldn’t happen to be able to get in contact with him?”

“No,” she said, her own frustration on the matter seeping in her voice. “No one has heard from him in years. Up and left out of nowhere.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“You’re telling me.”

Pursing his lips, Cassian reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a legal pad. Clicking his pen, he lifted his steady, earnest gaze to hers. “If that’s the case, you need to tell me everything you know about the Force.”

She tilted her head to the side, quietly observing him. Despite appearing as the strong and silent type, Cassian did not give off threatening vibes; he honestly want to know more. Wanted to somehow help his client and indirectly, her in anyway he could. Even if it meant learning the methods and beliefs of another religion.

Oddly, Jyn found it admirable.

“The Force is a tension that binds the universe together. Light, dark—”

“Balance,” Cassian interjected, writing down the string of words together.

“Exactly,” Jyn agreed. “A balance and the Force will do anything to achieve this balance.”

There were once rumors the Force manifested a child to bring the balance to the light and dark, but Jyn found such a phenomenon hard to believe. When brought up to Skywalker, the man scoffed and did not comment further on the matter.

Across from her, Cassian’s grip on the pen tightened then loosened repeatedly. Finally he dropped his pen down, staring through Jyn as his idea flowed from his brain to his mouth. “This Force will do _anything_ —Let’s say, even connect two Force sensitive individuals telepathically since birth.”

Jyn took a deep breath, exhaling through her nose. “Hypothetically speaking? Yes.” She shoved her half sipped drink away from her. “However, it is extremely farfetched.”

“How so?”

“There aren’t any Force sensitives in existence.” She reached over and snatched his pen and legal pad. Flipping a page over, she drew to stick figures. “A connection like that—two people connected telepathically—”

“Like Rey and Ben,” Cassian supplied with a sharp, knowing grin.

She rolled her eyes. “Sure, like Rey and Ben. Who for the record are _not_ Force sensitive.”

“So you say,” he muttered, but did not argue further.

“I only read of it once—it’s called a Force Link.” She wrote the phrase on the top of the page. A arched line then connected the two stick figures. One figure was marked as ‘student’ and the other as ‘master’. “From what I know, a Force Link is usually developed between a mentor and their pupil in the Force. It was easy to teach Force sensitives this way, to transmit ideas…” Her face scrunched up; huffing, she drew a horizontal line across the paper. Another two stick figures followed. One labeled ‘Rey’ and the other ‘Ben’. “However, these Force Links were easier to control and were not a sever as say…having a ‘psychic connection.’”

To differentiate the two connected pairs, Jyn drew a squiggly line between ‘Rey’ and ‘Ben’ with arrows pointing in and out towards one another. _An equal give and a take._  The longer she stared at the two awful diagrams the more she realized how similar and distinctly different Rey and Ben's connection was in comparison to a Force Link. Rey and Ben weren't master and student. If anything they were floundering lost souls.

“To put into plain terms, their essence could not be transmitted miles away—that would _kill_ someone.”

Silence fell over the two. Jyn stared wide eyed at the legal pad while Cassian pressed his lips firmly together, worry edging into his brow.

Whatever it was Ben and Rey potentially had…it was apparently more powerful than the strongest mental connection recorded in ancient religion.

Unable to help himself, Cassian snorted. “Are you…are you saying Rey and Ben are possibly the most powerful Force sensitives—if we are going with this hunch they are indeed Force sensitive—and they don’t even know it?”

 

* * *

 

“Guess what I am thinking.”

“Almonds,” Ben answered easily without looking up from his notebook.

Rey gapped at him, slamming her palms against the table top. “Correct! You _can_ read my mind—”

“No. Not really,” Ben said tiredly, writing faster. “Need I remind you, three bear claws are now being digested in your stomach?”

“Fair point,” she conceded with a shrug. “Still proves you know me well enough to make an educated guess.”

“I’d hope so.”

Tucking his pen behind his ear, Ben laid out his notebook between them. Rey quirked an eyebrow at the painstakingly hand drawn chart and table. When he came back with pastries, their talking remained to a minimum, the two too lost within their own thoughts to bother with forced conversation. Ironically, their silence felt more comfortable than their previous conversation, Rey feeling she could breathe freely for once.

“I made a list,” Ben declared. “Of all the occurrences of our connections.” He pointed to the first box, already a few bullet points made in his small cursive. “Then of what we assumed based off of our connection, and things we know about each other that we have never once mentioned.” That left the last large box open, simply labeled as ‘Personal Info’.

“Nice…but I think we might need more than a couple of pages—maybe an entire notebook,” she winced out.

Ben frowned. “I made multiple charts like this for the next few pages—we’ll be fine.”

“If you say so,” she mumbled, earning a light glare from Ben, before he moved on with his charts and lists. Rey sighed, dropping her chin into the palm of her hand. “I just don’t find this beneficial.”

Ben sat up, closing his notebook. “Why not? We need to look at the evidence, the only facts we can grasp—”

“And I just found out my best friend is _real_!” She grumbled back, her voice edging an octave higher. “I don’t want to analyze this—I want to experience our friendship like real people!” Shaking her head, Rey looked away from him, focusing on the passing cars out the window. “It doesn’t even feel like you are excited about this, let alone _happy_ —if I knew our connection bothered you this much I wouldn’t have shown up on your doorstep.”

Across from her, Ben’s jaw tightened before his entire face softened.

“I—I am happy. I mean, I _think_ I am happy,” he said clearly, licking his lips as the words struggled to come out. “This is how I handle things—try to see the facts because if I don’t then everything becomes too much and I become impulsive—”

“There is nothing wrong with being impulsive,” Rey defended.

“Says the girl who impulsively stole confidential information from a receptionist,” Ben shot back.

“I did it so I can find you!”

“Well, maybe I didn’t want to be found!” He argued back, his voice heated. “Didn’t you ever stop and think why I didn’t stick around after we bumped into each other?”

“Because you freaked out,” she said plainly.

“Because I’d freak—” Ben caught his words realizing he was going to repeat Rey’s response. “This is a lot and I don’t fucking understand how you can be calm about this? Who the hell is calm when they find out their imaginary friend is real?”

“I am _not_ calm,” she said vehemently, her hands gripping the edge of the table. “I am far from calm, but I can’t spiral or try to psychoanalyze the situation, Ben! Not everyone can look at the facts; sometimes they need to act like things are normal!”

“I thought you didn’t like that term,” he taunted back.

“Don’t throw my words back at me,” she hissed. Ben did not back down, instead narrowing his eye on her. “And I am using it in a different context, you nerfherder!”

“There is nothing _normal_ about this situation—I want to understand it before I go diving into the joy of it all,” he explained, lowering his voice when he caught the curious eye of the barista again.

“Oh, so you do think there is some joy in this situation?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Ben sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Yes—it’s just a lot to take in. To know the person who I always wanted around _could_ be there. It kind of fucking hurts.”

She blinked back, stunned by his harsh transparency. A silent fury seemed to always itch under his skin, Ben squirming in his own being to find peace. Voicing his thoughts caused the lingering itch to go away for a brief moment. For an instant Rey wondered if his only peace was through their connection, he more comfortable when they were alone in their little bubble.

“I was a child—an annoying child at that—for the majority of out connection. I highly doubt you wanted to actually take care of a baby in person.” Rey found herself attempting to poorly lighten the mood, but also trying to wrap her mind around how she and Ben had been presumably connected since her birth. “Ben, imagine the _baby vomit_ , which is arguably the worst kind of vomit—”

“Can you please stop saying vomit?” he said with a disgusted wince. She tried not to laugh in his face, Rey swallowing her chuckles down.

She inhaled deeply, bringing her gaze back to him. She flinched at the intense stare he latched on to her. “My main point—yes, you wanted me around in person, I did too. But…but maybe there is a reason why we have finally met now, after all these years and we should take advantage of it.”

“That’s oddly optimistic of you,” he mumbled after a moment.

“I can be optimistic.”

“I know,” Ben said quietly, a sad smile forming in his eyes. “I just haven’t heard it in a while.” His light brown eyes momentarily connected with hers, she feeling herself mentally seeping into his familiar gaze.

Clearing her throat, she averted her gaze back down. However, Ben’s lingered on her, not once caving into the temptation of looking away from her.

“So what do you suggest we do, to act ‘normal’?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Since trying to figure this out is not in the cards for us today.”

A sly grin formed on her lips. “I have just the idea."

 

* * *

 

**March 15, 2004**

 

For as long as Rey could remember, Ben has always been there. She never questioned it, his presence a mere fact of her life.

Her first memory was Ben telling her to be careful as she tried to climb up a chair.

She wasn’t careful and she fell, but he caught her.

Like he _always_ did.

“Don’t let go,” she mumbled, her eyes shut tight.

“I got you kiddo, trust me.” His voice was a warm blanket during a thunder storm. She held on for life.

Her grip on the handles tightened. She shook her head a little. Yup, helmet was still secure.

“You do know you have to put both of your feet on the peddles to move right?”

“I know!” She cried out indignantly, drowning out his chuckles. “I just…I don’t want to fall.”

“You won’t fall,” Ben reassured her. “I’m holding your seat the entire time.”

Annoyingly, he wiggled the back of the seat side to side, Rey yelping and planting her feet firmly on the ground.

“But—but what if you disappear before I find my balance?” She asked quietly, nervous someone might overhear.

Her friendship with Ben was hers alone. No one else knew, and Rey planned to keep it that way.

“I won’t,” he said, Rey feeling his determination in his words.

He meant it. Ben wouldn’t disappear; he’d make sure to be there until she found her balance. One thing she knew was when Ben made a promise he kept it.

Steadily, she placed her feet on the peddles. With one push she began to go.

“You’re doing it, you are doing good, Rey,” he encouraged, Rey feeling the solidification of his presence.

“Don’t let go—” She cried out when they hit a rough patch of asphalt. She wobbled slightly, her entire body tensing.

“I won’t, I won’t,” he murmured soothingly, still walking beside her, his hands on the seat.

The mid-day sun hung high in the sky, casting down on the two, a perfect day to be outside. Luckily, since it was Saturday Ben said he could help her with biking. Which worked out wonderfully since she wanted to learn before the summer. Grandad was thinking about sending her to a summer camp, to help her make new friends since home schooling limited her social circle.

While she didn’t want to leave Grandad, she understood to an extent. She wasn’t stupid; Rey noticed the piles of development and child education books around the house, all bookmarked and noted. He was trying to be the best guardian he could be.

Once finding a steady pace, Rey ventured to look up from her trained gaze on the ground.

“You’re doing awesome kiddo,” Ben said.

Rey spared a bright smile up at him before looking out to the deserted neighborhood again. The path was clear and solid, the little girl making sure nothing would have the opportunity to interrupt them. She learned quickly how her and Ben’s connection worked.

If someone was nearby, their interactions were quick and short.

If they were alone, they could be with each other for hours.

If interrupted, their connection cut out instantly.

Simple and easy to understand, and maybe they became pros at manipulating their connection.

Like every day, after her karate lessons or her art class depending on the day, she’d rush to her room and wait for Ben to show up. Grandad didn’t really bother her in the afternoon, he preoccupied with his own work.

Briefly Rey’s eyes caught sight of her shadow, an odd shape with how she sat on the bike. Sometimes when it was really sunny, she’d play little games with her shadows. She remembered in _Peter Pan_ how shadows became mischievous friends. She truly wanted one of those. Ben was he friend, but he wasn’t mischievous. Instead he was caring and goofy and brooding.

Especially the last one.

Beside her blobby shadow, was a longer and taller one. Every so often it would blend into hers before separating. But it was shaped distinctly different.

Shaped like Ben…

_WHAT!_

The longer she looked, Rey could not deny it was Ben’s shadow beside her.

But that was impossible.

He _was_ real…but he also _wasn’t_ real.

Actually, Rey did not know for sure.

“Whoa, kiddo, why’d you stop peddling?” Ben asked, peeking down at her. “You were doing so well.”

“Uh,” she squinted tightly, lips pinching as she struggled to find the right words.

She wanted to lie and not worry Ben.

He was the biggest worry-wart she knew and he’d spiral into his waves of anxiety. At least that’s how he explained when she caught him once in the middle of an anxiety attack. It was pretty scary, but she remained calm. Well, calm-ish.

But she found it extremely difficult to lie to him. Practically unachievable. And she knew because she tried to lie more times than she’d ever admit.

Ben waited, raising an eyebrow at her stumbles and mumbles.

“Ben…are—are you real?”

A trickling anguish warped over him, as though he could not believe what she just asked.

Panic prickled in her chest, though the little girl did not know if it was hers or his. Maybe it was both. “I mean—I mean you are real to me, but are you _really_ real?”

Her attempts to fix the situation were not working, turbulent conflict swimming dangerously in Ben’s eyes.

Inhaling sharply, he opened his mouth to respond—

“ _Rey! Why are you out here by yourself_?”

Her head whipped to her front yard. Her grandad stood on the porch, watching her with befuddled curiosity.

She didn’t need to look back at Ben to know he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots more Force talk and maybe we are starting to get the pieces formed together.  
> Next chapter we will see where Rey takes Ben :D And maybe jump back to Ben's POV.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated; I love discussing the fic with readers.


	5. The Run and Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 2006: Ben meets Kaydel on the first day of his summer job.
> 
> Present Day: Rey and Ben go for a walk. Jyn and Cassian attempt to contact Skywalker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning (mostly to cover my bases): There is a brief near death experience scene in the first section. 
> 
> Typos will be fixed later.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Holding On To You**

**Part One**

**Chapter 5: The Run and Go**

 

* * *

 

 

**May 7 th 2006**

 

Handprints leave a mark, even if it is unseen—invisible to the naked eye.

Which was great and awful because Ben wasn’t _fond_ of being touched. It wasn’t something he expressed or told, it was simply know by one look at him.

Tall, dark, and _imposing_.

At least those were the words Kaydel used to describe him when they first met.

“Like a scary Keanu Reeves,” she declared as she lit a cigarette. Taking a puff, she titled her head to the side, observing him once more. “Eh, maybe more along the lines of Edward Scissorhands.” She paused, coughing at the stick. Cringing she threw it on the floor, stomping it out. “Never doing that again.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Then why did you buy them?”

They were both on their break, Ben deciding to accompany her to the gas station on the other side of the lot. Apparently the girl’s birthday was a week ago, but she was too frightened to actually buy the cigarettes herself. Ben, being a gentleman, bought them for her.

He also bought himself a bag of Doritos, because he only had a thirty minute break and he ran out of the house before his dad could make breakfast. Plus he didn’t have lunch because sometimes art took precedence, like finishing the canvas he’s been working on for last six weeks.

His Uncle Luke was even planning on stopping by to see his progress on the piece. A rarity since the man was usually off working on the other side of the country, speaking about art theory and therapy.

“Because that is what you do when you turn eighteen. Take your first smoke,” she answered easily, as though it were obvious. Ben didn’t agree, already over eighteen for almost two years and never smoked in his life. But maybe that was just him. “So tell me why you decided to work at,” she glanced at the building behind them, as though she already forgot the place they both started working at that day, “ _Michael’s_? You like selling plastic plants to stay-at-home moms?”

“Summer job,” he said, taking a seat on the curb. It was a twenty past five; only ten minutes left before he needed to go back to stocking fabric. Not terrible as the place had air conditioning and most of the ladies who shopped in the store were relatively nice. It was either this, or working with his mom in the city as an intern for her law firm.

Unsurprisingly, he turned down the offer at first opportunity.

Thus, red vest and slicked back hair.

“Ah,” she uttered, disinterested. Dropping the mostly unused pack on ground, she sat down beside him. “You go to college then?”

“Yup,” he said tersely.

Not exactly the highlight of his life, but he excelled easily in all his classes. College was stressful when it had nothing to do with the actual school work; it was everything that came along with it that caused him to lock himself in his room and bury himself in his art work.

“Cool.” She glanced back at him, before looking forward again. They sat in silence for a few moments before she spoke up with an aggravated huff. “Just so you know I think you are decent looking, but I am not into dudes who don’t realize I am a package deal.”

Turning to her, Ben blinked in surprise.

No one ever really told him he was good looking beside his parents. And they did it because they had to—at least that was what Poe Dameron said to him in middle school.

“Oh, well…” he crossed his arms over his knees. “I am not interested.”

“Gay?”

“ _No_.”

“Got a girlfriend?”

“ _No_.”

She huffed, tapping her chin. “Then you like someone or you are simply asexual, which I totally respect—”

“Has anyone ever told you, you don’t know how to _shut up_ and mind your business?”

She didn’t flinch, but instead shrugged. “Yeah. And I don’t care. I find people interesting, sometimes I think I can even read their thoughts…”

He frowned, unamused by her chatter. “Like a psychic?”

“Like a fucking mind reader dude!” She shoved his arm playfully.

He scooted a couple of inches away, rubbing his arm. It didn’t hurt, but he still didn’t like it. “Don’t do that.”

“That’s how I can tell you have someone else on your mind,” she said and nodded humbly.

He shook his head. The person who was constantly on his mind was… _no_.

Not the kid.

Clearly this girl liked the sound of her own voice.

“No—it’s not like that.” He sighed, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. “I…I have a kid- _sister_ I worry about. And that is bullshit if you can actually read people’s minds. Everyone always has _someone_ on their minds. It isn’t rocket science.”

“Hmm, someone is clearly not a believer in clairvoyance.” She narrowed her eyes on him. Uncomfortable with her staring, Ben flipped her off. “She’s not a sister. She is something completely different— _you don’t even know her_.”

Ben froze, unsettled by the nearly monotone response from the nosey girl.

A familiar fade and _pop_ sounded—

“Ben!” Rey’s voice called out.

Looking out to the asphalt of the parking lot in front of him, Ben found Rey watching curiously. She was dressed in faded blue overalls, her hair tied in the usual three buns. She claimed it was the only hairstyle her grandad knew how to accomplish with out messing up her hair too much. When she was younger, he'd been able to braid her hair in fun little ways his mother taught him. Rey would preen at the attention and declare she was a princess and Ben her royal hair knight. Now it was nearly impossible to have her around long enough to get a singular braid done.

“Kid…” he mumbled, astonished to see her, _now_ of all times. It’d been a couple of weeks since he last saw her. The ten year old had been asleep the last time, curled into a fetal position with her pilot teddy bear.

“Who are you talking to?” Kaydel’s muffled voice echoed beside him, but Ben paid no mind to her, focused intently on Rey.

“Ben—why haven’t you been around?” Her voice carried clearly, her confusion evident.

His heart dropped. He hated to see Rey so… _lost_.

It wasn’t his fault. He just…he didn’t know why, but the more he questioned her appearances, the less she showed up. Progress in San Tekka’s eyes, but unrelenting panic for Ben. He liked Rey, dare he even think he might love her more than any other person could love another human being in the most innocent sense. She was a part of him, and the thought of her disappearing all together caused unmeasurable pain—but she wasn’t real. She was a manifestation of his anxieties. A kid alone, who liked art and asked too many questions. He was the same, they were one and the same and—

From the other side of the road he notice a car coming fast towards Rey, the girl completely unaware. Because she goddamn couldn’t see his surrounding for some fucking stupid reasons and—

“Rey, move!” He shouted frantically, stumbling on his feet to stand up. “ _Move now_!”

“What?” she blinked confused, unaware of the car coming closer.

“Move—”

“ _What the hell are you shouting at_?”

“Mo—” Ben dove towards Rey, the girl disappearing instantly on contact. With full weight, he crashed on the asphalt, the hot grains digging into his skin. His head collided with the opposite  curb with a sharp, sickening thud.

Luckily, he barely made it out of the way of the car.

“Get the fuck off the road, kid!” the driver shouted back towards Ben, but made no move to stop.

“Shit!” Kaydel cried out, shaking at the sight of him. Hot tears streamed down her face as she spiraled into a panic attack. “ _You-are-insane_! You could have been killed—why the fuck would you even—”

Her words morphed into incoherent mumbles, Ben’s vision blurring until there was nothing.

 

* * *

 

**Present Day**

 

“For someone who recently moved to the city, you sure know your way around,” Ben said as he followed Rey through the streets of downtown Chandrila. Her puffy jacket bounced lightly with every step she took, dancing upon her shoulders delightfully.

“I like to take walks,” she answered with a nonchalant shrug, pressing the crosswalk button forcefully. They waited for WALK sign to light up as cars passed through. “They clear my head when I can’t sleep.”

“You take walks at night?” Ben asked.

He could not help but think of all trouble that lingered in the dark night, and Rey charging through the side walk with dominance. She would be feared; while appearing young and approachable, she was a wolf in sheep’s clothes.

Ben knew that better than anyone else.

While lying was nearly impossible, it was easy to simply say nothing at all. Which they did more often than either would like to admit.

“Of course. During the day I work and I like the night, it is quiet. I can think,” she said with false openness; she was great at pretending she was of sound mind, not inwardly loosing her mind over what happened. He could sense the fear in her over their discovery. It took all he head to not tell her felt the same strange apprehension and familiarity around her.

“I feel the same,” he said as the WALK sign blinked at them.

Rey stepped forward—

An unreasonable panic surged through Ben at the movement, the haunting memory of her in the parking lot over a decade ago flashing before his eyes.

He instinctively reached for her arm, nearly yanking her back with the force of the concerned gesture.

Surprised, she blinked owlishly up at him. Apparently she wasn’t fond of touching, momentarily tensing in his grasp.

“Why the grip?”

“Uh,” he glanced down to his hand as though it’s have the answers, then back to her curious hazel eyes. “I thought the car was coming—”

“The sign says WALK—we can walk, Ben,” she reminded him sharply, before taking the lead down the crosswalk.

Humbly, he followed, silently relieved she didn’t shake off his hand.

In fact, she let him hold her arm—rather awkwardly—for the rest of their little journey. He wasn’t too sure to be flattered or amused. Maybe both.

Another block and half, Rey came to a stop in front of a large brick wall of one of the forgotten buildings on the east side of Chandrila.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she said, her breath caught in her throat.

Unadulteratedly, she stared at the 30 foot wall in awe.

Beside her, Ben followed her gaze with less enthusiasm.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?”

“A canvas,” she declared with conviction, turning to him with bright eyes. Her lips pinched tightly in unrivaled joy, a sight he had the privilege to see once in a blue moon. While having a smile as radiant as the sun, Ben was well aware Rey rarely smiled. Frowns and lips in a fine line, but never the pull of her lips. He could count on one hand the amount of times he’d seen Rey smile in her adulthood.

But this—this was something different. Her eyes spoke more than any well written word or the best speakers. Her eyes spoke a language he understood. Or one he believed he understood; after today, he wasn’t too sure what he knew to be true about Rey and what may have been a concoction of his own imagination. Lies he told himself about her to cope with the false truth.

“A mural?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding once before her gaze went back to the bricks. “I was hired to paint a mural for the building—it is to be renovated as an arts center in the spring.”

His eyes roved the wall, a spark of pride and faint jealousy stirring within him. Rey had an opportunity of a life time, one he thought to do himself one day. Making murals, have the world be his canvas. While he did the same with his freelancing in graphic design, advertisers using his art work and publishing companies contacting him to cover art, it wasn’t the same as dipping a brush in a paint can. Or the first stroke, followed by the second and ultimately finding a pattern and reason in his work.

Despite this…he was proud of her.

“Why…did you bring me here?” he asked quietly.

“Because,” she rocked on her heels, her gaze hooked on him, “friends share good news with other friends. And you are my _best friend_ , therefore you should see the sight of my next project.”

He allowed himself to smirk back. “Is this what normal friends do?”

“Yeah,” she squinted up at him thoughtful, “I think so.”

“Then I am honored,” he said earnestly. From the corner of his eye he noticed her take a quiet intake of breath, her eyes lost in thought over what to say next.

In their connection, words came easy. Banter and unforgiving remarks flowed reckless abandon. A simple comradery that lingered with unspoken questions and hesitant longing—which they never commented on. Ben hoped they wouldn’t start now either.

But for some reason in person, he could not help but be hostile or unsure, never a happy medium. Rey reacted similarly—over confident, to the point of feverishly pestering. Or quite, angry rumination.

Two peas in a pod they were.

“Since you have taken this walk presumably several times—”

“Fifteen to be exact,” she clarified.

“Have you been to the Mediterranean place down 5th?” he ventured, glancing back down at her. “They have the best kabobs in town, and I think the owner would like to meet you. He loves meeting new people.”

“Who’s the owner?” she asked, her interest evident by the scrunch of her forehead.

“One of my uncles,” his face pained for a moment before he schooled his features. “The only one I still speak too—”

“Lando?”

Right. She knew about Lando. A bit of relief washed over him to know he didn’t need to explain everything to her. Rey would still have her questions but she wasn’t going to pry…right now at least. Later however, well that was a different beast.

“Yeah,” he said quickly, “It’s a quick walk, we just need to take a right on Latha Ave—”

Rey snorted, before hesitantly resting a hand on his forearm. “Ben, you don’t need to convince me to go. You had me at the mention of food.” She squeezed lightly, her eyes drifting to his.

Yes. He was real…and she was too.

Flushing, she dropped her hand. Before crossing her arms over her chest in huff. “So kabobs? I am holding you to them being the best in town, Ben. I take food _very_ seriously.”

For the first time since he ran into her in person, Ben gave her a brief flash of a smile. “Glad to know somethings don’t change.”

 

* * *

 

**May 7 th 2006**

 

_A young woman smiled brightly at him. Her bright hazel eyes shined with mirth before concern clouded over. A smile turned into a fearsome, frustrated frown as she spoke—_

_“Why did you leave?”_

_He struggled to open his mouth, barely able to breathe let alone talk._

_Her questions continued as her face blurred in and out of focus. “You said I’d always have you and you are gone—Ben where did you go?”_

_“I—”_

_“I saw, you turned. You joined me, we stayed together. Like you promised.” Her voice became coarse, full of contempt. “I know you are better than this—”_

_“You’re not making any sense!” he growled out, finally able to speak._

_Then she vanished, her faint face gone._

_She vanished just like—_

“Fuck,” he sighed out, eyes squinting at the harsh florescent lights. “God, someone turn off the lights.” His grumbles fell upon deaf ears as several pairs of footsteps rushed towards him.

“Ben! What were you thinking?” his mother asked, crowding in on his right. “We got the call and thought the worst.”

“Geeze kid,” Han grumbled tiredly, “Let’s make a pact—don’t do anything I would do because that was some Solo level shit right there. Running past a moving vehicle—”

Leia rounded on her ex-husband, her hands still clamped on Ben’s arm for dear life. “Han, now is not the time to praise our son for nearly killing himself—”

Han rolled his eyes, holding his hands up in defense. “The kids is fine and I am trying to make light of the situation. Not everything needs to be the end of the world, Princess.”

“Don’t call me—”

“ _Shut up_!” Ben bellowed in the room, his voice rasping. “Can you two just shut up for two seconds?”

The parents fell silent, jaws dropped at their son’s outburst.

“Ah—” Leia cleared her throat, “ _Okay_. Okay we can stop. Of course, Ben,” she said solemnly, as though terrified of what he’d do next.

Typical.

“Kid, why don’t you take a moment to collect yourself,” a new voice chimed in. Ben’s eyes lifted to see his Uncle Luke at the foot of the bed, his tranquil blue eyes shining back at him in understanding. “Han, Leia—can you two go see if you can get some food for our little stunt man and notify a nurse he is up?”

Leia’s mouth pinched, but she up and left without an argument. Han on the other hand, turned back to Ben and patted his son on the shoulder before following his ex-wife out the door. Apparently they were going to defer to Luke to get info out of Ben. While a small part of Ben wanted to be surprised, he knew better than to expect more. Han and Leia usually argued over him, for various reasons, and a third party needed to intervene more often than not.

Luke shuffled forward, hands in his pockets. “That was quiet the scare you caused—”

“Cut the bullshit,” Ben mumbled, exhausted from both his injuries and seeing his family. “You want to know what caused this. I don’t blame you.”

Raising his eyebrows, Luke took a seat on edge of the bed on the left. His eyes drifted to Ben’s forehead, outwardly wincing at the gauze tightly wrapped around him. He’d have a scare no doubt.

“I know about your friend,” Luke spoke up, Ben’s eyes snapping to him. “I have known for some time now. Your parents told me years ago.”

Ben didn’t even try and act surprised. “Figures.”

“Yeah…I just,” he huffed, rubbing his eyes. “I know what you did was probably not of your own volition.”

His eyes narrowed on his Uncle. “What’s that supposed to mean? I had full control over my body and I wasn’t high or anything like that. I just saw—”

“I never said you were intoxicated or of the likes,” Luke said quietly, his focus elsewhere; somewhere behind the monitor. “Ben, believe it or not, some people do not think you are ‘crazy’.”

He stared at his uncle, wide eye. Did…did Luke know something he didn’t?

Licking his lips, Ben sunk lower in the hospital bed. “I thought I saw someone about to get hit by a car. But thank god no one was actually there.”

He expected some type of visible reaction from Luke, but nothing came. Instead the man nodded and glanced down at his watch. Sighing, he looked back at him as though everything was right in the world and Ben almost didn’t get hit by a car.

“I saw your piece while you were unconscious,” he said, changing the subject. The conniving bastard. “Your dad let me into the shed—it was _interesting_.”

Ben felt the emerging chuckle die in his chest. “Is that your nice way of saying you hate it?”

“No,” Luke said hurriedly, patting him on the knee. Ben inwardly winced at the contact. “No, of course not. I just need to know,” he raised an eyebrow, “why handprints within a handprint? Never pegged you as someone for pop-art.”

“It’s not a bunch of different hand prints,” Ben defended, feeling the pounding in his head return. “It is one handprint made over and over,” he inhaled deeply, tired but afraid to close his eyes. “A handprint leaves a mark, even if it is unseen—invisible to the naked eye.”

“Whose handprint is it? It is too small to be yours.”

Silently, Ben shrugged, feeling his eyelids droop. “The only one I know better than my own.”

Luke’s mouth formed a grim line as the sound of Rey’s echoing voice filled his ears.

“Ben, what happened? Are you hurt?”

He turned his head over to where her blurry silhouette stood. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

“I hope so.”

Ben wasn’t too sure if either Rey or Luke said those words as he fell back into slumber.

 

* * *

 

**Present Day**

 

“Excuse me, can I please speak to Dr. Skywalker?” Jyn asked, her phone on speaker. She’d been on hold for the last half and hour, waiting for the receptionist to get back to them.

After some research and calling a couple of family and friends of Skywalker, specifically a loose lip man by the name of Lando, the two finally got current information on his whereabouts.

_A modern monastery in Naboo, Italy._

By the dining table, Cassian stood biting his thumbnail. His notes and books were laid out on her meager dining table, the man making himself at home in her apartment. He even made coffee, or better yet _café con leche_ , claiming he was using his great-grandmother’s recipe. Jyn went along with it, not one to deny caffeine in tough times.

He raised an eyebrow when the pleasant voiced woman answered.

“Dr. Skywalker has already went back to his room for the day to meditate,” the woman said, her accent hardly Italian but British. Jyn and Cassian stared at each other, as though they could figure out what to say just by eye contact. Neither expected Luke to not be available. He was retired and apparently living in a monastery in Italy. Not to mention they waited until a little after midnight to make the phone call just to not call at an absurdly early hour in Italy.

“Well can you let him know,” she glanced down at Ben’s file on the coffee table in front of her. This was going to go against all ethical codes, but hadn’t she already done more than her fair share that night? What was another violation going to do in the scheme of things? “That I am his nephew’s physician with impending news that must not be delayed.”

“Oh—I… we did not know he had family.”

Cassian rolled his exasperatedly, dropping his face into his hand. Of course, Skywalker would pull such a move.

“Well, he does,” Jyn continued, adding heat to her fabricated lies. “He has a nephew in critical condition. He—” she flipped through the medical notes she scrounged on Solo. Her eye landed on one about an accident a little over a decade ago. “was in another car accident.”

“I will get Dr. Skywalker right away,” the woman declared in a hurry, Jyn once again put on hold.

Dropping her head on the couch cushion beside her, Jyn groaned. “I am going to hell.”

Cassian tilted his head to the side, eyeing her carefully. “I wouldn’t know about going to hell, but if anyone finds out, we are absolutely getting our practice licenses revoked.”

“Well shit,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “Why are we even going on this wild goose chase?”

“Because it is the right thing,” Cassian said with fierce determination, “we might be able to actually help Ben and Rey if we understand just a little of this. Know why and how they are connected and for years—”

“And say _what_? ‘Due to this ancient religion, you two might be destined to be connected’? They’d so much run out the door and claim they are _on fire_ before they willing accept this idea,” she said dejectedly, the recklessness of their actions finally hitting her.

Her follow therapist then sat on the couch behind her, resting a firm yet gentle hand on her shoulder. “Ancient religion? Earlier you spoke about the Force as though it were real,” he stressed. “Real enough to be our answer, real enough that you believe it.”

“I never said I believe in the Force,” she shot back, glaring up at him.

“You didn’t need to,” he told her, holding his own against her cutthroat gaze.

She felt the need to pull away from his all to knowing gaze, but did not have the energy to look away. For someone who appeared kind hearted and soft, Cassian Andor knew how to stealthy use his words and his piercing brown eyes.

“Hello,” a gruff voice said over the phone, the two snapping their attention to the man of the hour.

“Dr. Skywalker—”

“Yes, what is this I hear about my nephew? Is he alright?” he asked frantically.

“He is fine,” Jyn said quickly. “I just have some questions—”

“If he is not on his deathbed this conversation is over,” Dr. Skywalker said finitely.

“Ben’s imaginary friend is real,” Cassian blurted out, Jyn whacking his shoulder in retaliation. However Cassian pushed her away, focusing intently in the phone, knowing this might be the only opportunity to contact the elusive man. “The girl Ben believed to be imaginary is real. She is your former client, Rey—”

“Excuse me, but do you realize how many ethical code—”

Jyn took a deep breath and cut off the man sharply, “Sir, we understand the circumstance, but we have reason to believe your nephew and Miss Kenobi might have a Force Link.”

Silence fell over the line.

Closing her eyes tight, Jyn reached for her kyber crystal necklace, quietly praying for the Force to give her guidance. To listen and be one with it. “Please, this is Jyn Erso, sir. You might not remember me—”

“Oh, I remember the rebellious girl in my Art Theory class; would need brainwashing to erase some the wild things you’d say. Pretty sure you scarred some of your peers.” Luke’s admission astonished Jyn, not expecting the man to remember her.

“The Force Link,” Jyn began again, only for Luke to interrupt her once more.

“It’s a Force _Bond_ , not a link. A link is not as strong as a bond,” he corrected tiredly, an exhaustion in his tone. “How…how do you know? What happened?”

Cassian took the reigns on this one, deciding it best he be the voice of reason. “Rey and Ben ran into each other, and Jyn and I have compared notes coming to the conclusion they may be connected through the Force and—”

“ _They ran into each other_?”

“Yes,” Jyn said, sharing a worried glance with Cassian.

“This…I have a bad feeling about this,” Luke said simply, however the desperation in his tone was not lost. “I will hop on the next flight out of Naboo. For the love of god, don’t tell them _anything_. The minute they start communicating, it is going to fuck up their minds and being together like that…too much in one place is bad. _Really, really bad_.”

Jyn blinked down at the phone, Luke’s words becoming frantic and mumbled. “Dr. Skywalker, you are not making any sense—”

“Whatever you do, _do not_ let Ben Solo and Rey Kenobi be together. The balance of the Force depends on it.”

 

* * *

 

**Somewhere Else…**

 

From across the street, Kaydel noticed the stocky form of her former co-worker from her first job—the dude who almost killed himself. She’d know that Edward Scissorhands-Keanu Reeves hybrid anywhere. After all he was the catalyst for all her problems. Okay that was harsh—not all her problems, but the reason why she attended therapy for the last decade.

What the hell was his name…something _nerdy_..

Ben!

Yeah, Ben.

The fucking idiot. Him running out in front of a moving vehicle was traumatizing— _it would be traumatizing for anyone_ —no, the real kicker is she believed the nerdy idiot.

She believed he saw someone and wanted to push them out of the way. Because for a flicker of an instant she felt, deep in her mind, someone _was_ there.

A girl, the kid Ben talked about. Or didn’t really talk about considering she kind of just plucked it from his mind.

Naturally, she frantically told her parents what happened and maybe in her panic mentioned the voices she’d been hearing—she was _traumatized_ , okay? She didn’t think they would actually send her to _psychologist_ and be given meds to ‘stop the voices’. Which they didn’t stop, thank you very much. And it wasn’t like these voice were talking to her, she just heard random thoughts. Like she knew her boss and one of the co-workers at the clinic were fucking each other. Or that her dad was gay, but was too nervous to break up with her mom. Or how the burly tattooed guy who sells the hotdogs on Anabel St. between the stadium and the hospital liked to knit in his free time.

Just little things, ya know?

So she went through the motions until she decided to simply go to therapy at that place where her former patient, San Tekka worked. She then told her former shrink, Dr. Snoke, adios and went to see Dr. Erso two days every week to say the same old thing—

_“Yes the voices went away.”_

When really they hadn’t and she made it seem like she knew everyone on the block to know intimate details such as Dr. Andor having a raging crush on Dr. Erso. But she didn’t share that with her therapist. Kaydel was fine playing a quiet matchmaker for the time being.

Which brought her back to her current dilemma; she knew the feeling of the young woman with Ben.

It was the _girl_.

The very same girl she sensed when Ben ran out in the middle of the road.

He’d been trying to save _her_ , but…she wasn’t there?

Sure, Kaydel worked a 38 hour shift and needed to get home for some much needed sleep, but to hell with it! She wasn’t going to let this opportunity go to waste. She needed to know how that clusterfuck went down in front of _Michael’s_ nearly twelve years ago.

Taking another step, she stopped.

This…this was weird but somehow, _in some absurd way_ , the girl’s presence blended almost flawlessly with Ben’s…almost as if they were connected. Kaydel had never encountered anything like it.

While she wanted to follow through and go to them to find her answers, Kaydel knew better. She needed to find Maz; the quaint woman knew a thing or two about energies and she’d be able to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introduced a couple of characters! EVERYTHING HAPPENS FOR A REASON! As we saw with Kaydel, who ~maybe~ is force sensitive (though nothing near Rey and Ben's level). AND LUKE! He knows thinggggssss…..
> 
> Did anyone catch Kaydel's name listed in chapter two on the list of clients? :D Decided to throw in her POV, which will happen sometimes with other characters when necessary. It will usually be marked with the subtitle of 'Somewhere Else...'. Her section reveals quite a bit of what our two main pairings might not be aware of.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated; I love discussing the fic with readers :D


	6. Friend, Please

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update! Last one for about a week or two (got some things to take care of, but I'll be back soon). Slowly replying to comments--if I haven't responded I will soon :D
> 
> Typos will be fixed later.
> 
> Enjoy

**Holding On To You**

**Part One**

**Chapter 6: Friend, Please**

* * *

 

**Earlier…**

 

Their walk was both painfully silent yet comfortable. Neither could imagine not being comfortable in each other’s presence; to feel each other knew and in person only strength the ease in their companionship.

Shoulders brushing. The occasional bump of a hand. Withholding the desire to clasp it with their own. Heat radiating from the other. Shy and sure glances before hastily averting their eyes away. Certainty in the threatening smiles and consuming eyes. More than friendly but less than a lover’s longing; instead a medium place of heavy hearts and hopeful souls of the lingering promise of tomorrow. Because there was a _tomorrow_ —they’d be able to freely see the other tomorrow in they so choose. A season of unknown waiting over.

However speaking to each other appeared to be the problem once again.

How did one speak to someone they’d known all their life, but never _truly_ knew? Yes, he knew Rey’s favorite color was green because she loved the outdoors and her favorite movie was _When Harry Met Sally_ but told everyone it was _Dead Poet’s Society_. He knew she always wanted a dog but never got one because her grandad was allergic. On one hand he could count the number of times Rey rolled her ankle from struggling to climb the tree in her backyard, and he could name the first boy she ever kissed (Matthew Fuller—he had braces and ran away disgusted two seconds later). Or list all the books she read that made her cry, and the ones she hurdled across the room.

He knew Rey as well as his own memories. She grew up with him.

But he did not know how she laughed when she watched her favorite movie, or how she awestruck she became at the sight of the wonderous woods. He did not know how she lived beyond their connection. He only saw one version, one he can only see and barely touch. One he was able to speak through but never truly experience.

The Rey he knew was filtered through their connection, and the Ben she knew was only shadows of his true form. Nothing solid and clear… until now.

As they came closer to the little Mediterranean restaurant, an idea struck Ben.

“Hey before we go in, let’s try something,” he said, earning a curious glance from Rey. He turned to stand in front of her, nodding once to himself before taking a deep breath.

“Are you ok—”

He stuck his hand out to her for a handshake, “I’m Ben Solo, thirty-two. I work as a graphic designer and think computers are stupid despite my profession. I would not object to long walks on the beach if you are into that sort of thing, but I draw the line at Instagraming the entire walk. Like to live off the grid.”

A string of stifled chuckles escaped Rey. Her eyes twinkled, the streetlamp lights casting warm and inviting highlights and shadows upon her. A living portrait he’d capture forever in his mind.

Understanding his train of thought, she grasped his awaiting hand. Calloused fingers from her constant painting and adventuring melded against Ben’s smooth palm. With gusto, she gave a frim shake. “Hello, a pleasure to meet you. I’m Rey Kenobi, twenty-one. I am freelance artist and _yes_ I can afford food and an apartment contrary to popular belief. I just need to work a little harder than the rest.” Pinching her lips together, she flushed as she admitted her likes, as though suddenly embarrassed in front of Ben. “I like moonlight, stars, and the sound of crashing waves. Maybe one day we can go for a walk on the beach since you do not object to such activities. And I only have social media for my art, otherwise Twitter who?”

He snorted at the last bit, squeezing her hand lightly in response. Neither removed their hands from the other, reveling in the warmth of the skin to skin contact.

Lifting his gaze away from their connected hands, Ben’s eyes caught Rey’s. Her forthright stare did not deter him, he matching her gaze with his own open, searching pupils.

Carefully he lifted her hand with his and brought it close to his chest, she following the pull of the gesture by one step. Not looking away, he said with honesty, “It is a delight to see you and be with you.”

All Rey could do was hold his hand and lead him inside, prepared to meet Ben Solo all over again.

 

* * *

 

**September 16, 2008**

 

“Now, Rey why don’t you tell me about your friend?” Dr. Luke Skywalker asked.

“No.” She answered back immediately.

No one needed to know about Ben.

It was all her fault this was happening anyways. The other afternoon she slipped up and Grandad overheard her one to many times. He was calm about the situation, but then his _friend_ came over.

He was a doctor, Grandad explained. A doctor who liked to talk about thoughts and feelings.

 _A shrink, Rey. You’re grandad is sending you to a shrink._ Ben’s stubborn voice chimed. She told him what happened—why wouldn’t she?—and he was surprisingly unsurprised by the matter.

His parents forced him to see one of those doctors too. He still went to one, but the guy was alright. Not super nosey and let him talk about whatever. Ben admitted he mostly talked about school; college sounded rough and it looked like he was going to switch his major— _again_.

She asked why he constantly was switching what he wanted to do in life.

Ben said it was because he could. He had time.

She knew he wasn’t lying, but there had to be more to it than simply wanting to stay in school forever. Because of him Rey already decided she wanted to finish school as soon as possible.

Bored, Rey picked the block again and stacked it before knocking it back down. There wasn’t much to do in the doctor’s office, especially since it seemed to be designed for little kids. She sneered at the ‘wildlife’ mural on the wall—if she painted that mural, it would never look like some lame cartoon. No, it would be cool with bright colors and obscure animals.

Dr. Skywalker paused for a moment before coming to join her on the floor with the blocks.

“You’re not in trouble, Rey. You can have as many friends as you want. But I just want to know a little more about…”

He feigned confusion, as though he could not remember her ‘friend’s’ name.

Rey rolled her eyes.

This was stupid.

“You do know I am eleven? Talking to me like I am five is not going to get me to talk.”

Dr. Skywalker’s eyebrows rose to his forehead, clearly not expecting her to sass back.

“Okay then…” He shook his head, sitting criss-cross across from her. “Rey, do you know what type of doctor I am?”

“A shrink.”

He snorted, though the sharpness of his eyes told her he was at least mildly offended. “Ah, no. I am an art therapist. I use art and my patients use art to express themselves.” He smiled politely. “Your grandpa mentioned you like art. Mostly painting.”

“I know what art therapy is,” she answered matter-of-factly, ignoring his attempt at conversation. “My friend is forced to do it sometimes since doctors can’t find anything clinically wrong with his brain,” she said with a shrug. Ben liked it to an extent though he mostly stuck with calligraphy. Which in a way was a form of therapy. “Are you going to have me color tricky patterns? Because I can do that at home.”

“No.” Dr. Skywalker shook his head firmly. “Today I just want to get to know about you and your friend, and your grandpa. Whatever else you’d like to talk about.”

Rey stared hard at the man.

He wore a brown sweater and slacks, reminding her of a hermit. His hair was beginning to gray in some areas but he appeared relatively youthful, definitely not as old as Grandad. And he seemed somewhat kind and trustworthy despite the familiar haunt in his eyes.

“You are not going to tell anyone?” she asked, her voice hushed.

“No one.” Dr. Skywalker crossed his heart.

Biting her lips together, she thought it over.

What she and Ben had…was not normal. Whether he was real or not real. Maybe talking to Dr. Skywalker would give her answers. Rey needed some answers.

“I think my imaginary friend might be real.”

 

* * *

 

**Present Day**

 

“What should we do?” Jyn muttered, her hand clutching her cell phone. Their phone call with Skywalker ended ages ago, yet neither she nor Cassian knew what to do after.

The old man said to keep the two apart, but Jyn could not help but feel it was counterintuitive. Weren’t Force-sensitives meant to be surrounded by other Force-sensitives? Build a community within their abilities, like the tales of the Sith and Jedi. Maybe Jyn was being idealist, an attribute she’d never once associated with herself before, when it came to this mind boggling connection between Ben and Rey.

“What is best for Rey and Ben,” Cassian said simply as he sat down on the armchair opposite Jyn. “They are the priority here.”

Carefully she set her phone back on the coffee table, finding herself in the classic therapist persuasion pose. She clasped her hands on her knees, raising a questioning eyebrow to her colleague.

“Are you suggesting we listen to Skywalker and keep them apart?”

His jaw twitched, his thin lips moving for the right words before pinching together in default. Swallowing, he mirrored her stance. The gears turned in his mind as he spoke, thoughtful and calculated. “They have already bumped into each other, at the office.”

An unsettling prick tingled her spine at his observation. “That was mere coincidence.”

“Or this Force finally pushing them together?”

While claiming to not know much about the Force beyond the basic mythology, Cassian sure was keen on its will. She momentarily wondered if he lied, possibly someone who knew more than he initially let on to get her information—

Okay, maybe she was paranoid. But growing up with Galen Erso as her father caused Jyn to always check every lock and key of her being—she didn’t need anyone knowing more than necessary, that was when pressure points we made. Her mother was a pressure point for her father which led to a divorce because the man could not focus on his work with… _distractions_. Jyn’s colleague was wiggling his way to be a pressure point—and to be frank—she despised the matter.

“I also think my client is reckless enough to actively seek Ben Solo,” Cassian said after a moment when Jyn didn’t respond.

“The girl,” Jyn started, her eyes roving the coffee table for the file. It was opened on the left end. She grabbed it and laid it out on her lap. “What about her makes you say that?”

Cassian sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Rey is…a determined girl. Far too childish and too mature in some cases—”

“And you know all this from one appointment?” Jyn implored in disbelief. She knew Cassian occasionally acted like a hotshot, claiming he could figure out a client’s issues within seconds. Some Sherlock Holmes shit Jyn knew to be all talk.

He didn’t take the bait to argue. “Somewhat _and_ from her file. Just because I tell my client’s I don’t know anything doesn’t mean I truly don’t. It’s called building trust, Jyn.” She didn’t bother to speak, letting him continue. “Parents died when she was almost four, sent to live her grandfather and was happy there until he eventually succumbed to death when she was seventeen.”

“Shit,” she muttered. She lost her mother as well, but she could not fathom the thought of loosing her father as well, especially at that age, despite their estrangement.

Cassian could only nod in agreement. “Yes, she attended therapy for years with Skywalker, starting at twelve—her grandfather apparently called in a favor with Skywalker to get her in.”

Jyn frowned, something not adding up about this girl. “Who was her grandfather?” Skywalker knew many but rarely kept in contact with others. A private man who liked to remain elusive. Hell, his own family hardly knew his whereabouts. If he was in contact with someone…then they were _important_.

“Um, Benjamin Kenobi, but he use to go by a different name…Obi-Wan.”

Neither knew the significance of the name, merely making note.

“Let’s say…Rey _is_ reckless enough to seek Ben,” Jyn begins, thinking of how ridiculous yet plausible the matter may be, “We are already too late to prevent whatever Skywalker doesn’t want to happen.”

Cassian hummed in agreement before stating simply, “And how are we to trust Skywalker?”

“Because he—because he,” Jyn faltered, her jaw falling slack as the question seeped deeper. How were they supposed to trust Skywalker when…when he _knew_ Rey and Ben were connected?

Damn, how were they supposed to even trust San Tekka? He undoubtedly knew as well if Skywalker knew. They were both men who observed the existence of the Force. It’d be nearly impossible for San Tekka to not know.

“Jyn…he let them believe the other was imaginary until _adulthood_ ,” he spoke slowly, his own disbelief and pain for Rey quivering in his voice. “If…if what we know is true, that Ben has known Rey all her life—”

“—then they have known each other, been connected like this for over twenty-one years. Never knowing the truth.”

Silence fell over the two as they realized the weight of the situation. This…this was _beyond_ their capabilities; they were over their heads _. Force sensitivity?_ Were there even professionals to handle such cases, because Jyn such wasn’t one. Nor was Cassian.

Rey and Ben had both in therapy for _years_ , countless years, being told the one person they apparently trusted was imaginary, when they were in fact _not_. Somehow these two were denied the truth with little to no reason, left to believe false information.

Jyn knew Ben experienced low self-esteem and persistent self-loathing for most of his late teens and early twenties, becoming a drifter in his own life. To still ‘see’ a supposed imaginary friend into adolescence while struggling with maturing milestones such as first jobs, relationships, and college did a number on him.

A part of her mourned for Ben unable to fathom how he managed to move forward without ever truly knowing what was ‘wrong’ with him.

Cool fury and compassion riled inside Jyn. While she respected San Tekka and Skywalker as her superiors and mentors, she knew where to stand on this matter.

“Cassian,” She stood up from the sofa, setting the file back down, “we have an obligation to our clients to do what is best for them.”

His eyes searched her, scrutinizing as she waited for him to understand her implications. Sitting back, he hummed in approval. “You’re right. We’ll call them in the morning, set an appointment ASAP.”

“Perfect.” She walked over to the other side of the living room, her eyes scanning her bookshelf. On the third shelf, eye level, she found the book she’d been hunting for. Turning to him, she raised an eyebrow. “Have you ever mediated couples therapy?”

 

* * *

 

**November 11, 2010**

 

“So, do you still see her?” San Tekka asked as he always did.

“Yes,” Ben answered tiredly. He’d been giving the same answer for years. They never dive too deep into the matter, not since he opened up about her in the beginning and the ‘Are you real?’ fiasco a couple of years back.

He almost had a existential crisis when she asked him the innocent question.

Now, he could not help but wonder if she were real or imaginary as well. Thinking about it too long caused migraines and Ben did not need another anxiety on top of his crumbling life.

It’d been well over a decade since Rey started popping up in his life. Ben both loved and hated their odd connection with a passion. She was his best friend, listened to him and gave silly and logical answers. Rey was well beyond her years for a thirteen year old.

However it became increasingly difficult to maintain. Not just his psyche, but the friendship they built. She was constantly in everything and he felt too much of her…her _emotions_? He wasn’t too sure what to call it. She felt everywhere and nowhere at once. Not to mention there wasn’t a rhyme or reason to the connection right now.

For the last couple of years it’d been turbulent. She’d randomly show up while he was in class, disrupting his concentration, and she didn’t even notice. Popping in and out only for a few minutes each time, never able to stay longer.

He couldn’t even remember the last time they had a full length conversation.

“How is school going?”

“Can I fucking quit again?” Ben asked, rubbing his eyes. He had high marks, but his motivation level was below zero.

San Tekka remained quiet for a moment, before leaning forward with concern in his eyes.

“Ben, don’t take what I am going to say as nagging, I know you hear it enough from your parents,” San Tekka started slowly, Ben raising an eyebrow at the comment. “But you need to make decisions to help you move forward. You have skipped the last three sessions because I think you know we need to talk about this.”

Ben didn’t argue. San Tekka was right.

“Why do you want to quit school?” The lingering word of “again” hung in the air.

Ben would argue the first time he left school was due to his uncle. He loved the man, but he could not live with him. Especially when he happened to know all of his professors and loved to psychoanalyze him. Ben had to remind Luke constantly that he did indeed have a therapist and did not need his uncle to be one.

This did not go over well.

So Ben transferred to a different college on the other side of the city.

He then fell into a different trap. He was at his mother’s alma mater and everyone apparently worshiped the ground the legendary District Attorney Leia Organa walked on. During that semester, Ben seriously contemplated changing his name or at least dropping his middle name. He stayed at the school for the entirety of his sophomore year.

And then Poe—damn Poe—convinced him to take a gap year and join his band.

Worst. Fucking. Decision. Ever.

Ben played the keyboard because well, what else could he do with those piano lessons his mother imposed on him during middle school? If Han was getting a normal therapist for him, then Leia was going to get the piano lessons she was harking about since he was five.

He only agreed to do it because Poe was a family friend who also didn’t really know what to do with himself, only he had a degree in engineering he really didn’t want to use. Their ‘rock band’ was called _The Rebel Eight_ , but it was only him, Poe, and Hux. So a misleading name.

Now he was studying art, and enjoying it for the most part.

He was just exhausted all the time. He didn’t know how to find the balance between school, work, and time spent on his art assignments. Not to mention how often his mind drifted to Rey.

His face scrunched together—goddamn it. He needed to stop thinking about her.

“I…I don’t know,” Ben huffed, rubbing his eyes from under his glasses. “Because I am not _happy_. I am not _content_. I feel dead inside.” He answered honestly, earning a concerned look from Dr. San Tekka. “Don’t worry. It’s just normal to feel this way when I don’t see—” he stuttered for a moment, before clumping his mouth shut.

Leaning forward, his therapist clasped his hands on his knee. “This normal when you don’t see who Ben?”

“When…when,” he shook his head, “it doesn’t matter.”

“When you don’t see her? When you don’t see _Rey_?”

Hot flash of anger burned his mind. Ben took a deep breath and focused on the floor. The old man was digging for an answer he was not willing to give.

“I still see her,” Ben said, ignoring the subtle disbelief shining in San Tekka’s eyes. “I still see her every day.”

“Are you sure?”

“ _Positive_.”

He didn’t care if it was a lie. Even if he didn’t see her every day, he still somehow felt her presence in his mind. She was always there, lingering.

 

* * *

 

**Present Day**

 

“You were right,” Rey declared, once a block away from the restaurant, “those were the best kabobs I have _ever_ eaten.”

“I told you,” Ben said almost smugly, earning a light bump of the shoulder from her. “Best in town and now you know, no longer suffering a life before them.”

A smile tugged on her lips, but Rey fought against its release. She’d been grinning like a fool for half of dinner, immediately dropping her joyful demeanor whenever it became a little too noticeable how enraptured she became around Ben.

Witty, clever, and an idiot with words, Ben Solo was a living, breathing human being she imagined to be real for the majority of her youth.

Once reintroduced to each other, the conversation found its footing and the two found themselves speaking over each other and rambling without fear. Food was eaten with enthusiasm, Rey chewing and taking a bite out of every dish she could get her hands on. Ben watched on with amusement, neither scolding or embarrassed by her table manners.

Stopping at the corner streetlight, Rey glanced at the street signs. The glee in her heart and flutter in her stomach dropped. This was where they parted…Ben lived a few blocks the opposite direction of Rey’s apartment. The thought to leave him now seemed unfathomable; they’d been apart and sporadically connected their entire lives, to leave now…no. Rey would not let this happen and banished any thoughts of appearing clingy.

Seeing her line of sight, Ben frowned. “Um, I guess this is goodb—”

“This might sound crazy, but I don’t want to leave you,” Rey blurted out, holding her head high. Ben’s eyes widened at the confession. While never one to beg, she needed to make her situation clear. “I don’t want to leave you because we just found each other and I don’t want to sleep and—”

Warm, heavy, comforting hands then rested on her shoulders, centering her. Looking up, he stood before her, his forehead nearly touching hers.

“It’s alright,” Ben assured her, his voice quaking deeply, “Don’t be afraid, I feel it too.” His brown eyes bore into her own, a glint of fearful curiosity in his eyes. “This need to not leave because what if—”

He cut himself, not needing to voice the very same paralyzing thought they shared.

_Because what if you never comeback to me. What if you truly aren’t real?_

“Okay,” Rey breathed out, trying to calm her erratic heart. “Okay…okay. We can—” she swallowed tightly, clamping her hands on top of Ben’s. Upon contact, she realized his hands were shaking like a leaf, his own separation anxiety emerging. “We can go back to my place and just stay together.” She peered up at him, feeling his towering presence surrounding her. She felt safe. “ _Please_.”

A soft thread of benign security formed between them, some _force_ pulling—a feeling she only felt once during their connection—their essence closer together.

Then in an instant it fade like a soothing balm, the brief indiscernible moment gone.

“Of course,” he murmured the promise, dropping his hands down from her shoulders.

Without hesitance, she grasped his hand in hers once more.

This time he did not pull away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated; I love discussing the fic with readers :D
> 
> follow me on twitter @intpslytherin97


	7. Oh Ms Believer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present Day: Rey and Ben go back to her apartment and chat.
> 
> May 2012: Rey and Skywalker have a session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> It has a been almost two weeks and here we are! Life has been a little busy (and will continue to be for the next couple of months) but most of this fic is planned out now, and hopefully this will have the writing come a little bit easier.
> 
> I highly recommened listening to the chapter title song 'Oh Ms Believer'--one of my all time favorite Twenty One Pilots songs (and thats saying alot because I love them all, hahaha)
> 
>  
> 
> Here is the updated [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ssXMxWtwmIakjQTaNTXER) for the fic! 
> 
>  
> 
> Typos will be fixed later!
> 
> Enjoy!

**Holding On To You  
**

**Part One**  

**Chapter 7: Oh Ms Believer**

 

* * *

 

**Present Day**

 

“It’s not much, but I kind of like it,” Rey announced, lingering closer to her apartment’s entrance. “It’s a home away from home.”

Ben tried to not think of how disheartened she sounded at the sentiment.

Jiggling the keys a bit, she was able to release them moments later from the locks finicky grasp. A tired huff escaped her, but her impending grumble of complaints stopped when she was Ben simply standing in her apartment.

A familiar sight.

Yet entirely new.

He wandered a few feet away, taking in the sparse yet cozy studio. Tall and wide, Ben felt immensely large in the space, however he did not fear he consumed too much space. Oddly enough, a nostalgic warmth tampered within his chest as he stood in her living space. While never physically being there, Ben realized he recognized the configuration of space—

It matched his own.

A near doppelgänger of where each chair and appliance were placed, the home simply embodying Rey’s sensibilities rather than his own.

An older olive green sofa sat towards the middle of the room, and a refined wood coffee table across from it. More than likely a piece of furniture from her grandfather’s home. If he remembered correctly, her grandfather was a minimalist before such a mainstream fad even came about. The lack of busyness but thoughtful—sentimental—pieces and belongs in the apartment told Ben his friend inherited such traits.

Clothes were scattered upon on of her few chairs, and a few of her art supplied spilling out of various bags and totes. A few canvases and stands were propped up against the little wall space she did have, some even encroaching into her kitchen space. Potted plants sat on the counter, nurtured with great care and diligent hand. She always had a green thumb, complimentary to her soft spot for nature.

_“I want to see all the green in the world.”_

_“That’s a lot of green, Rey.”_

_“I know—a good challenge.”_

Her bed was shoved into a corner, almost as afterthought. Sheets were crumpled in a heap towards the foot of the bed, only halfheartedly folded before another distraction came. His was the same; sleep did not welcome either as a fond friend.

From the window, the city lights shined dully into the room. He stepped closer to the uncovered panes, seeing very little of the city life passing by. She was far away enough from downtown, but close enough to still see the lights of building dance in a kaleidoscope of colors in the dark cloak of the night.

Behind him, he heard her shut the door. The closest lamp was flicked on, bathing the room in a warm dim glow.

“I know I should probably have curtains, but I like the big windows,” she said, coming to stand beside him. “Makes me feel less alone.”

“I understand the feeling,” he murmured, hoping to sound more casual than he felt.

“When you first lived on your own did you ever feel both secure and lost at once?”

“Shit, I still do,” came his deadpanned response.

Rey snorted.

He ambled away from the window, taking a seat on the edge of the couch. “Everything about finding yourself once you are on your own is bullshit,” he said with a definitive chuckle. “Believe me, I know.”

As a twenty-one year old struggling to comprehend his life outside of his family and outside of Rey, Ben found himself alone more often than not. Alone in his studies, alone in the city, forcing himself to be alone in his _mind_.

That was dumb move.

But overall, he meandered for a while, longer than anyone should. Hell sometimes he felt he still meandered through life, as though he were simply waiting for the _moment_ —

The moment where his life finally came together. Where everything fell into place. Where labels and expectations did not define him and he was _just_ …The moment where happiness and contentment did not come form effort but became a honest sense of being.

He knew it was there and felt a faint touch of it in an instance he could no longer remember. A cruel twist of failed memory, to forget the moment but to still feel its phantom presence.

Lifting his head, he saw Rey watching critically. She’d always been able to read through him, know when his mind was lost in another world. She caught him getting lost in thought when they had dinner together earlier, able to reel him back in with the vague brush of a hand.

They spoke for hours in the restaurant catching up, or better yet reeducating each other.

She knew he lived in the city for a little over six years and spoke to his father on a semi-regular basis. It was mostly to just inform the old man he was alive.

He was a freelance graphic designer; it was _okay_ , he didn’t complain. He was hired enough to pay the bills. She laughed at this—his voice of disdain but mild, unbridled joy—a common ground for many artists.

He wanted a dog, but his apartment didn’t allow pets.

She promised one day they would get a dog.

He tried not to think _too deep_ into the statement.

She spoke of her friends—Finn and Rose—and their unbelievably agonizing dance of will-they-won’t-they. He snorted at the thought of a restless and determined Rey watching this all unfold. She must have been on her last thread of sanity with the two. Then she discussed little on her schooling and work, barely taking about her art, as though embarrassed by the idea. Cheeks tinged pink and lips pressed together in a fine line, she ducked her head away; bowing out of the conversation topic.

The brief second of bashfulness vanished and was replaced by the stern jaw and knowing eyes he knew well. His mind recorded the transition with fascination, hoping to remember all facets of Rey.

At that moment Ben realized he never truly seen her art work. Only mentions here and there, a fleeting brush stroke. Discussions of colors and shades, able to only imagine what his own brain could cobble up from her spoken details. Never anything sure and definite.

That was the problem with their apparent connection—they only ever saw each other, never their surroundings.

At least that was how it’d been for the majority of their lives.

She then crossed to the opposite side of the couch, knees tucked under her. A subtle smile played on her lips, slightly lifting the somber mood he cast over the room.

“I’ve been wondering…you mentioned you gave me a last name—”

“No,” Ben huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, “I am not going to tell you. You’ll mock me.”

Scoffing she shoved his shoulder, “Come on! I _need_ to know,” she insisted, sitting up straight and facing him fully, “Here I’ll tell you one of the nicknames I gave you growing up—”

“Like what?” he teased.

“Like…” Her eyes widened as one came from the depths of her memory, “like Prince Dumbo.”

“‘Prince Dumbo’?” he reiterated in utter disbelief. “You’d call me ‘Prince Dumbo’—where’d you even come up with that?” he asked harsher than he intended.

“Because of your ears,” she answered easily. The ‘prince’ part remained without explanation, Ben not bothering to press the matter as she rambled on. “You have these ears,” she flicked them for good measure, “and they are one the first features that come to mind when I think of you.”

His lips twitched, recalling all the instances Baby Rey—as he called her in his mind until she was well into primary school—would tug on the shell of his ear in fascination. Awe and wonder came from her gaze in those early years, as though the awkward pipsqueak boy would know all the knowledge of the universe.

“Your turn,” she nudged his thigh with the toe of her shoe, “I shared, now you share.”

“Damn it, fine,” lulling his head away from her, he spoke quietly and honestly, “I would call you Rey Solo.”

Ben was surprised how easily the phrase came from his lips. With little effort and hanging securely in the air between them. Not an ounce of regret weighted upon him; however, fear greeted him like an old friend. An old toxic friend.

“Huh,” she murmured, eyes narrowing in thought, “that makes sense.”

“Right.”

“Because we essentially grew up together.”

“In a weird way, yeah,” he said while ruminating on the idea.

Yes, they grew up in each other’s… _presence_.

He witnessed her merge from infant to child to an adult. She was in the same situation as him; he’d been ten when they first found each other. A little over twenty-one years. If they wanted to put their circumstances in the plainest sense, then _yes_ they did ‘grow up together’ but that didn’t mean—

“It makes sense you’d see me as a sister-figure,” Rey said in an attempt to decipher the matter logically. “I’m younger— _much younger_ —” a soft quake echoed in her words, her usually clear voice cracking. Huffing hot air, her shoulders pushed back, Rey holding her head high. A heartbreaking, forced chuckle sparked out of her. “I mean why wouldn’t you—I uh,” her gaze shifted away from his, hazel eyes darkening a fraction, second by second closing herself off. He heard her swallow tightly, already in-tuned to her in person after less than a day. Taking a deep breath, she looked back at him, a small indention between her brows. “I don’t know why I am reacting like this,” she said truthfully, edging into a confused and frustrated, empty chuckle.

Neither did he—at least he didn’t for an instant.

But then he felt it.

Somewhere in the space between the, pulsing inaudibly and rhythmically.

“I,” he started before taking a deep breath. He needed to be sure of his words; he had misspoke and stumbled over his words with Rey enough times to know being direct as possible was his best option. For him more so than her. “I never thought of you as my sister.”

He expect a kin form of relief from her.

Instead Rey blinked back at a loss, stunned by his response.

Did he even know how to adequately describe their relationship?

The word ‘friend’ was wrong. Yes, she was a friend—a best friend—but the term did not encapsulate their relationship. Neither did the label of ‘sibling’, a failing comparison. And ‘lover’?

Well. No.

He’d never let his mind stray there for too long.

Yet he loved her in the most non-romantic sense…if that were possible.

“I always thought of you as my person—not because I own you. Because I don’t,” he hastily corrected, knowing of Rey’s natural independence, “We were just…just each other’s _person_ ,” he said once again, lamely.

Across from him, she did not speak. Her lips twitched, neither a frown or a smile emerging in the gesture.

“Well, you're my person too,” she finally said, nothing more to her statement.

Ben was sure he imagined the faint luster in her eyes at the sentiment.

Shifting slightly on the couch, she stretched out her legs. Her beige sweater was too large for her frame but draped in a comfortable way. She always appeared to be on the brink of comfort, even in her clothing. However, Ben knew better to understand she was far closer to teetering into distress. Biting her nails—a habit he shared—and presenting a false sense of sureness allowed for her true uneasiness to seep through the cracks.

He’d seen when she though he viewed her as a sister.

But now she was relaxed, he could feel the fringes of her upset fading away into mere nothing the longer they simply sat together.

It felt like old times…

…but also floundering in a sea of unfamiliar.

And Ben knew it had nothing to do with his fear of not knowing the ‘real Rey;’ those worries vanished as they walked together down the streets. He knew her and she knew him, and they were slowly in the process of reacquaintance.

Simply the sensation of being _near_ each other was unsettling, the unfamiliar.

Almost as if one boundary had been released and another slammed down without their permission. A disconnect neither could comprehend.

How strange to feel incredibly close and completely distant in the span of seconds.

She must have sensed it as well based off the concern etching in strain strokes upon her features.

Blindly, their hands found one another in the dimly lit room; each other the only sure presence in the room.

 

* * *

 

**May 12, 2012**

 

“I just felt nothing.” Rey shrugged, slumping further in to the sofa. Her sketch pad laid open in front of her, drawing absentmindedly as Dr. Skywalker did his usual questions. “Not even the rush of teen hormones. Just mild disgust.”

Sitting in the chair across from her, Dr. Skywalker hummed in thought. His pen padded on the paper, jotting notes.

“ _Mild disgust_?” her therapist repeated, a huff of a chuckle edging its way in. He probably thought her to be melodramatic, but every word she said thus far was spoken with even weight. No gravitas at all. “Hate to break it to you Rey, but no one has a romantic first kiss.”

“But they are at least attracted to the person,” she argued back.

Dr. Skywalker shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. But it is good to experience feelings of romance and attraction at sixteen years old, _normal_.” He then reached for his green tea on the coffee table between them, adding as an afterthought, “Doesn’t mean you should necessarily _act_ on them, but acknowledging them and knowing these feelings exist is exactly where you are supposed to be.”

Rey set aside her worn sketchbook, matching his gaze with an air of annoyance. “See? You’re not getting it—” she rolled her eyes, before narrowing on her therapist. “Maybe I’m asexual?”

“You are not asexual,” Skywalker repeated tiredly, picking up his notebook once more.

“And how would _you_ know?”

He raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Oh _right_.”

Clicking his pen open, he scribbled more notes in his notebook.

That’s how it always went. He’d ask questions, she’d talk—maybe offend him in some way like she always did, like she did just then—and then he’d write notes in his little notebook with a combination of utter disdain and amusement. Rey never once regretted what she said to him, he had to keep it confidential anyways. And Skywalker was a champion of patience and the silent treatment. Honestly a terrible pair of client and therapist when considered in retrospect, but she was already with him this long and he took her in as a favor to her grandfather.

Rey couldn’t complain about a favor or nice gesture on her grandfather’s behalf. It wasn’t in her blood.

“Maybe you like someone and you don’t even know it,” he threw the comment into the conversation lightly. “It happens all the time. More often than you think.”

“I highly doubt—”

“I am not asking for an answer,” Skywalker interrupted gently, breaking into therapist mode for a brief second before going back to his curmudgeon personality. “I am just asking you to chew on the thought.”

Rey refrained an aggravated groan. She _hated_ that phrase.

_Chew on it._

It was the therapist way of saying, “ _I really want you to think about this deeply but not fall into a spiral, but also I have the answer you are struggling to find_.”

“I don’t talk or flirt with guys, mostly because all I can hear in the back in my head is—”

_“Rey, guys are stupid. All guys. Wait until you are like…I don’t know fifty to date someone.”_

All she can think about is all dumb crap Ben had said about the matter for years. He was just looking out for her—or was she subconsciously looking out for herself.

The verdict wasn’t decided despite what she told Skywalker.

A faint lingering thought never went away…he could really be out there. Talking to her, seeing her… _waiting_ for her.

Dear god, she sounded like a romantic sap—

Rey froze.

Shit.

Crap.

NO.

“Something you’d like to share, Rey?”

She…she liked Ben.

And she didn’t even know it.

Damn fucking Skywalker and his stupid _chew on it_ questions.

“I…uh,” she blinked, “no.”

Her high pitched squeak did little to ease his unwavering stare. The unfortunate thing about therapists is they always knew when their clients were lying. Skywalker always knew, even when he didn’t know, he somehow miraculously found out within the hour.

“No?” Skywalker repeated, nodding his head slowly.

Rey remained silent, lips pitching tightly as her mind reeled at her own quiet revelation.

Realizing she was going to keep mum, he clicked his pen and closed his notebook. “You took a pause. Why don’t you vocalize what you are thinking?”

Opening and closing her mouth a couple of times, Rey settled on a shrug. Contemplating her choices, she knew eventually Skywalker would find out. He always did. However he also didn’t need to know right away…for years he hammered down on her belief in Ben’s possible existence. While never cruel, he was adamant about the matter. Nudged her in the direction of realistic thoughts and musing rather than staying trapped in the ‘Ben Obit’ as he liked to call it.

Her life could not be lived according to Ben—and she didn’t, something Skywalker was unable to grapple. Her therapist did not understand Ben was a fixture in her life, _her entire life_ , he simply there to come along for the ride. The argument for her free will was nonexistent because it was never threatened.

Despite their oddly amusing back and forth—the determined, too curious pupil and the grumpy, cynical old man—Skywalker had a habit of making her the victim of her own story rather than the hero.

Across from her, he noticed her reluctance to speak.

Connecting a series of dots she could not see, Skywalker’s blue eyes drooped in ill exasperation.

“Oh no,” he muttered disappointedly. “Don’t tell me; it’s Ben?”

Rey’s jaw locked at the mention of his name. She felt Skywalker’s gaze boring into her skin; the aggravation and exhaustion weighing heavy on her shoulders.

She could hear the thoughts potentially stirring in his mind—“ _all his hard work for nothing. The kid still thinks her imaginary friend might be real_.”

“No one else is like Ben,” was all she said. Her answer wasn’t a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ to the question, but a sheer acknowledgement of the truth. After years of therapy, she knew better than to give a straightaway remark when she didn’t want to necessarily share, but still strived to be honest.

Skywalker’s scoff hurt more than Rey expected; the man stared at her in disbelief. “Of course no one else is like Ben—he is a manifestation of your mind.”

“That doesn’t mean—” Her voice cracked, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion.

She then clammed her mouth shut.

 

She didn’t need to cry or bemoan, especially not to Skywalker. No one ever witnessed her cry, except for Grandad and Ben.

“Why would you say it like _that_?” she asked instead.

“Like what?”

“‘A manifestation of my mind’?” she reiterated condescendingly. “What about me like Ben—besides the fact he is my supposed imaginary friend—is a manifestation of my mind?”

His mouth formed a harsh line, bothered by her flipping the questions on to him.

“Because he _is_ an imaginary friend—all the things you like about him are conjured up by your mind,” he paused a moment, waiting to see if she was following along. She didn’t nod or speak, but stare at him straight on with a near snarl. Clearing his throat, her continued. “All I am saying is—of course you’d like ‘Ben’,” he said the name delicately, as though she’d break. She refrained a scoff at his sudden gentleness of her little feelings. “Because Ben is not real—all of his personality is made up of what you like and dislike in a person; everything you have consciously and subconsciously collected in your memory. Every aspect of him is something _you_ made up—how he acts—”

Ben was solemn and snarky, yet sweet and kind. But he was _always_ like that. She couldn’t have made that up because she was an infant, a child. She didn’t understand dueling personality traits—hell she barely understood them now!

“—how he talks—”

Ben’s voice was deep and rich, but also _American_. She did not know an American until Skywalker, when she was twelve. How could she even make up an accent?

“—how he looks—”

No one else looked like Ben. Because Ben was Ben—he was lanky until he wasn’t. His dark wavy hair was short until it wasn’t. Her so called imaginary friend was older than her and grew up, changed, and evolved. It’d be impossible for her mind to formulate such a person.

Skywalker can talk and go on about how she made up Ben’s personality or his voice or his looks, but she knew all together it sounded mystifying and improbable for her to create an entire human being in her mind to latch on to for the majority of her life.

“—he isn’t real.”

“But he is!” Rey blurted out in vexation. “ _HE IS REAL_.”

Picking up her sketchbook, she flipped to her latest drawing—

Another sketch of Ben.

A profile.

She caught him in a brief moment last week; the first she’d seen him in a month, and the longest he’d been around to speak more than a couple of syllables in almost a year. He’d been looking out her window, mentioned finally graduated from undergrad with a degree in art, emphasis in graphic design. Took him almost seven years to get around to doing it, but he did it. And she was proud.

His hair was moppy, a messy in between of short and a little long. He said he wanted to grow it out; she agreed it suited him.

As he spoke and filled her room with his presence, she began to sketch him. She learned early on, the only way to capture his image beyond her supposed imagination was to draw him. Commit his form to paper. Because paper was real and it meant even a little bit of him was real even if he wasn’t of her material world.

Strangely enough he became her ‘muse’—as much as she despised the word she personally acknowledged it was a truth in her work—and he found his way into her art in little ways.

She had sketched dozens of images of him. Each progressing and refined as her technique and hand improved.

“See,” she shoved the sketchbook to Skywalker, forcing him to look, “he is real—this is him.”

Her therapist’s eyes widened a fraction before resuming their usual lack luster glaze.

His hand reached for the book, aging fingers hovering above the paper…almost caressing the lines and edges. A concerned yet fascinated awe overcame Skywalker until he dropped his hand away.

Whatever spell fell over him for an instant vanished, not to be seen again.

Mouth in a sour line, an eyebrow raised, he tutted. “A marvelous piece, Rey.” He paused, swallowing tightly. Carefully he picked his notebook and pen. “However…” His eyes dropped back to the sketch before slowly looking back up at her. An inner tug of war shined in his eyes before the blue hues hardened once more. Stung, Rey tucked the sketchbook back under her arm. “However, this does not change the fact Ben is not…” he took a deep breath, then continued, “it does not change the fact Ben is not actually here with us.”

“So you…you still think he is imaginary?” she said quietly.

Skywalker did not speak and remained neutral. Not encouraging nor discouraging her thoughts. Rey did not know if she was grateful or disappointed by his reaction.

“He’s not,” she hugged the sketchbook to her chest, “at least he is not imaginary to me.”

“Then maybe we have a problem,” was all her therapist said.

.

.

.

.

Not until she was older, twenty-one, did she realize Skywalker never referred to Ben as her ‘imaginary friend’ after that session.

* * *

 

**Present Day**

 

Somewhere in the middle of the night, it began to rain.

Pitter patter of droplets hit the large windows in a frantic array. Water sliding together then apart in a fluid rush. A connect then disconnect.

Asleep, Rey’s arms tightened around his middle. Her hands gripped the back of his shirt for dear life, her unconscious form hyperaware of his presence.

She’d fallen asleep while they were talking about how she got her job and moved. Initially sitting on the couch, they somehow migrated to the bed as the haunting dust of slumber drooped their eyes.

Laying side by side, facing one another, was not odd. They’d been connected to each other for so long, they’d occasionally appear in their sleep. Unintentionally the spent the night sleeping beside one another. However it did not happen quite as frequently in their childhood; instead it became a common occurrence in the last couple of years.

Her deep slumbering breaths echoed against his chest, her head nestled in the crook of his arm. Ben was tempted to shift away from her, but did not have the heart to unwind her arms from his torso. She seemed to rarely sleep, the deep set of dark circles under her eyes a silent tell of her struggle. Chestnut waves of hair cascaded over his arm on to the pillow, messy but free from its usual restraints. Raising a careful hand, he brushed away lingering strands from her face.

Letting his hand hover, Ben marveled at her calm and relaxed demeanor. It’d been years since he witnessed her sleep soundly. Tense jaw and furrowed eyebrows were smooth and laid to the natural curve of her features. The pad of his thumb nearly brushed against her temple, Ben feeling a sudden wave of ease wash over him in an embrace.

Gazing upon her now, in the dull hue of the evening lights and illuminating rain, Ben knew he could have never conjured up such a lovely girl.

Allowing his head to fall back against the pillow, he listened to the rain, unable to find the urge to fall asleep when wrapped up in her presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay--now some of you might be wondering "If she always believed he existed, then why did she claim he was imaginary in the beginning?"  
> Sixteen year old Rey believes Ben exists, but something may happen to change her belief in the time between this flashback and before they meet in person.
> 
> Also timeline: Part One will mostly consist of a week in Present Day. Part Two--you'll just have to wait and see ;) After all I can have up to 49 chapters since there are 49 Twenty One Pilots songs, hahaha.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated; I love discussing the fic and answering questions :D
> 
> Follow me on twitter @intpslytherin97


	8. Migraine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We catch back up with Kaydel, and meet some new faces.
> 
> In the past, Ben and Luke discuss a client's artwork.
> 
> Jyn struggles to maintain hope, while Cassian never seems to run out of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> Here is the next chapter!
> 
> Typos will be fixed later :D
> 
> Enjoy!

**Holding On To You**

**Part One**

**Chapter 8: Migraine**

 

* * *

 

 

“ _We are closed_!”

“It’s me!” Kaydel shouted towards the back where the grumbling, tiny voice echoed from. The door closed sharply behind her, the flood of burning incense hitting her nostrils.

_Madam Maz’s Seeing Eyes_ was a stumbled upon fluke when Kaydel was twenty. She was getting tired of the same old-same old with her annoying shriveled therapist, Dr. Snoke.

_“There is something dark in your mind.”_

_“Yeah, I know. Why the hell do you think they sent me here?”_

Needless to say, he didn’t like her either.

So she decided to go to a psychic, because well who better else to tell her if she was psychic if not a psychic themselves?

Of course, she did not expect someone like Maz.

No one was really like Maz.

A small, aged woman popped her head between the gaudy curtains hiding the back room. Her large glasses magnifying her opulent eyes.

“Girl, you should be at home resting,” the psychic ordered lightly, stepping further out. “Long shift at the hospital, no?”

Her beads and jewels rattled together in chimes and clatters, leaving a small tune wherever she went. Coming around the counter, her eyes narrowed on Kaydel, no doubt sensing the trouble stirring within the younger woman’s chest. Maz had an affinity for such, similar to Kaydel

The older woman hummed sagely. “Something happened.”

Kaydel nodded once. “Yes and you are the only other person I can talk to about this,” she said hurriedly, old panicked feelings piquing back up after all these years.

“The Force,” she declared with childlike wonder, before becoming stern once more. Glancing over her shoulder, Maz’s face fell in conflict. “I would love to discuss this with you but—”

“Excuse me,” a loud, declarative deep voice called out from the back room, “but I thought I’d get some answers, not sit on a 70’s style cushion for nearly half an hour.”

The curtain of beads separated to reveal a dark haired man, his entire face pulled into a tight frown. Faint worry lines creased his face, however his eyes were youthful.

Upon seeing Kaydel, he flashed her a charming grin. Her instinctive reaction was to gag—she wasn’t the biggest fan of the classic hot male with a captivating smile. Nope, nope, nope. She found guys like this dude to be aggravating. And to put frankly, Kaydel did not put up with fuck boys.

And this guys seemed like one with his halfassed put together appearance, his wardrobe a little more youthful than his years—she did see the grey sprinkling his temples after all—and the incoming beard on his chin and unkept hair attempted to tell her otherwise.

Actually looking at him better, she might have been a little rash to slap the label on him.

He looked more like a former fuckboy turned slight slacker-hobo vibe. Very Nick Miller ala _New Girl_.

She could not help but wonder what fucked him up.

Maz smiled lightly to the man, glancing at Kaydel with a knowing eye.

The younger woman did not like _that_ look. She did not like it at _all_.

“Poe, this is my niece,” Kaydel refrained a snort at the term. The two were not blood related, but she acted more like family than her actual parents did. Not to mention Maz tried to explain the Force mumbo jumbo as best she could, and never belittled her feelings and reactions in the slightest. “Kaydel, this is my newest client—”

“No,” the man interrupted, heatedly, “I am not a _client_ ,” he spat the word with disgust, “or anything like that. I am not here to get my palm read or have my future told by some shoddy Tarot cards.” He stepped forward, narrowing his once welcoming eyes into harsh slits. “I was sent here by Leia Organa because she said you can give me answers to what the hell is happening to me.”

Kaydel’s eyebrows flew up at the mention of Leia Organa, the city’s District Attorney. And then it clicked—she _knew_ this guy; or at least she heard about him in the news.

District Attorney’s Executive Assistant having a very _public_ mental breakdown.

Apparently, no one knew what caused it, or how it came about. Some rumors went around that his wife suddenly died which caused his mental state to go on the brink.

He was removed of his title or something about stepping down—you know, she didn’t really know the details because she only occasionally watched the news. Morning news was too depressing and usually her shifts conflicted with the evening news.

“Ah, Leia,” Maz said delightfully, “she is a bright girl.”

“She’s in her fifties. I wouldn’t call her a girl,” Poe muttered, jaw still locked tight.

Crossing to lock the front door, Maz chuckled. “Everyone is a child to me Poe.”

He wasn’t amused by the comment, watching Kaydel and Maz as though they were up from the prey.

Which was honestly stupid; Kaydel had the upper body strength of a jellyfish and her limp, weak arms showed it.

“There is nothing to be concerned about, Poe,” the woman assured him with a small tut, “In fact you should be relieved you are getting answers at all.”

“What do you mean, ‘answers at all’?” he asked, sounding a little _too_ desperate in Kaydel’s opinion.

“Kaydel is like you,” Maz said simply, ignoring the question as she turned the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’, “Experiencing so called ‘episodes’, hearing voices—” Kaydel’s eyes widened at the information, whirling to look at the stone faced man. Apparently he wasn’t a fan of the casual, calm tactic Maz expertly used upon him. “Knowing things before they happen, like when someone is about to enter a room.”

He huffed. “Cut the psychic crap—”

“It’s not ‘psychic crap,’” Kaydel interrupted before he could continue on a potential path of panic. Crossing her arms over her chest, she stood tall. While still short compared to him, Poe blinked at her, stunned by the ferocity of her penetrating stare. “It’s called the Force and it is a very real thing despite sounding like something a five year old nerd came up with while playing pretend.”

Silence followed…

Then Poe snorted in complete and utter disbelief.

A aggravated growl came from the back of her throat as she unceremoniously lifted her foot and kicked him in the shin.

He hissed, clutching his leg. “What the fuck—”

Kaydel’s lips pinched together tightly, on the verge of shoving him out the door herself. “If you don’t believe me then get the hell out—”

As she reached for his arm, a definitive cloud of remorse clung to her signature.

And then she saw a whole lot of what she did _not_ want to see—

_A man—Poe—standing in front of his bathroom mirror and completely not recognizing himself as his mind hyper focused on all the vibrating movements in the apartment._

_Everyone, he could feel everyone—every breath, every step, every heartbeat._

_It was too much—ALL TOO MUCH._

_His mind throbbed…and it did not stop throbbing from the surge of energy surrounding him._

_._

_._

_._

_Work was too much._

_Everyone in the DA’s office was loud, even in their silence._

_His once open door policy became nonexistent. His office door shut, all meetings canceled unless absolutely necessary. His conference calls were brief and his tone clipped._

_If Leia noticed she didn’t comment on it. Always the professional for all occasions._

_She knew he and Jess were having problems again. Probably marked it off as that._

_For once he was glad he could blame his mood on something else that had nothing to do with his health._

_._

_._

_._

_“Honey, are you alright?” a soft soothing voice asked. A woman—Jessika, Poe’s memories supplied readily—stood before him, holding a bag of groceries in her arms. “You kind of got lost there for a second.”_

_“What—what did you ask again?” He could not even hear his own voice over the constant humming and buzzing in his ear._

_“If spaghetti was okay,” she said slowly, setting the bag down on the counter. She came closer to him, a hesitating hand hovering over his shoulder. “Poe, if the migraines are that bad, you need to go see a neurologist.”_

_“I don’t have time Jess,” he muttered tiredly._

_“But you have been like this for months—I am concerned because it hasn’t gotten any better—”_

_Poe’s jaw tightened. “I am fine.”_

_Her nostrils flared for a moment as a hefty breathe rushed through her. “No. You are not fine. You have not been fine. I’m calling the doctor’s office since you apparently can’t handle that…” she mumbled the last bit to herself, as she stepped away._

_“Don’t call the doctor—”_

_Jessika ignored the order, picking up her cell phone. “Poe, honey—this is not you—”_

_He clutched his ears, squeezing his eyes shut._

_The pounding was like an intense drum now, thrumming insistently._

_“I said don’t call the doctor!”_

_“I…I won’t call the doctor,” came her lifeless echo._

_“And I am tired of you constantly going on about how I am not taking care of myself!” he continued on his rampage, his brain find odd but not satisfying relief in his yelling, “If I am too difficult, then get out and never come back!”_

_Realizing what he said, Poe finally lifted his head._

_The phone had clattered to the floor, forgotten._

_Standing with vacant eyes, Jessika repeated his words, monotone, “I will get out and never comeback.”_

_Poe felt his blood drop, all the noise in his mind become still and empty. “No—no, Jess. I didn’t mean—”_

_She was already walking out the door without anything in hand._

_“Jess—Jess where are you going,” Poe stood up, attempting to stop her, but she maneuvered out his way and marching down the hall to the elevator._

_She didn’t hear him…or better yet, she took his words to heart._

_No. NO. This was not what he wanted._

_“Jess…JESS!”_

_A broken cry—_

“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME.”

Poe knocked her arms away, taking frantic steps back like a frightened animal. His bulging eyes darted between the two women skittishly, his arms stretched out. His scathing gaze struck Kaydel, she barely catching her breath over the Force visions she unwillingly witnessed.

“Don’t get the fuck near me,” he ordered, his voice ragged as he struggled to gulp for air. “I don’t know what you did—”

“I did _nothing_ ,” Kaydel interrupted, taking a step forward. In retaliation, he held his chin high, staring her down his nose. An intimidation tactic—well, the poor fool was about to find out it took something of massive proportion to frighten her into submission.

“Yes, you—"

“All that was you.”

She stuck a finger out, jabbing his pectoral. He winced, teeth clenched as he stood taller.

“No it was you—”

“Yes, because those were _my_ memories, you dipshit,” she taunted childishly, knowing easily how to get under his skin. “I totally have a wife named Jess—”

“Don’t _say_ her name!” he growled, his tanned face burning red his aggravation rose to higher levels. “You didn’t know her! You don’t have the right to say her name!”

“You are acting like she is dead,” Kaydel said, eyeing him questionably. “What the hell did you not let me see—”

“None of your damn concern—”

Waves of wretched, burning grief ebbed from Poe.

Part of Kaydel desired to somehow make the pain go away—not for his sake, but for her own. She knew what it felt like to feel too much…

_It was too much—ALL TOO MUCH._

One instant Poe was standing before, a terrified glint in his crumbling bravado, the next he was collapsed on the floor.

And the grip his energy had on her vanished immediately.

There was only one person who could knock someone out without laying a finger on them.

Whirling around, Kaydel frowned at Maz.

“Why would you do that?”

“He was annoying me,” the older woman shrugged nonchalantly, “Now help me take him to the back, can’t have anyone find him.”

Not moving to help, Kaydel stood her ground, glaring at Poe’s slumped form. “No. He doesn’t even believe the Force exists—”

“Which makes it all more important we keep him here,” Maz insisted, her magnified eyes piercing into Kaydel’s soul. “He’s already done harm, Leia told me so. It is best to help him.”

She scoffed, arms crossed over her chest. “By what—teaching the ways of the Force?”

“Precisely.”

Well, fuck.

 

* * *

 

**November 22, 2012**

“Princess, just let me take care of the turkey—”

“It is my house, my rules. I cook the turkey.”

“Hun, you can’t cook for shit—”

“And you will burn the house down with your wild cooking ideas—”

“They are not wild! The _Food Network_ is a formidable _and_ informative channel.”

“The _Food Network_?” Leia echoed in disbelief. “You, Han Solo, watch the _Food Network_? You really are an old man—”

Han bristled. “Hey now—”

“Will both of you shut up!” Ben seethed, the argument coming to a halt.

Sitting at the breakfast nook with a sketchpad open, he glowered slight at them.

Han Solo and Leia Organa had been divorced for over twenty years, yet they never seemed to stop with their bickering and badgering. One misstep and the petty arguments started up as though no time had passed. Any time Ben was in the same room he felt as though he was nine year old again, listening to their never ending yelling over whether or not to rearrange the living room or if they should have Chinese for dinner. Every conversation caused a heated debate that led to someone marching out of the room in a huff.

It seemed this time was no different—except Ben remembered he was twenty-six and knew how to cook a damn turkey.

Setting his pencil down, Ben closed his sketchbook, looking his parents with paternal disappointment. “Both of you get out of the kitchen. I’ll cook the turkey.”

“Ben, no—”

“Kid, you know how to cook?” Han uttered, momentarily stunned before becoming pleased. “I know for damn sure I never taught you.”

“Yeah, well, I taught myself,” he shrugged, not seeing the problem. “I’ve always been pretty decent at it.”

“Oh,” Leia hummed, though overall remaining hesitant. “If that’s the case, then I don’t think it’s that big of deal—”

“But it’s a lot of food to finish,” Han reminded the two, raising an eyebrow at his son. “Are you sure you want to do it alone?”

Before Ben could answer, his uncle spoke up. “He won’t have to. I can help him.”

“Really?” Leia raised an eyebrow. “I find that hard to believe,” she said bluntly, unamused.

Luke stepped forward, no longer lingering by the kitchen door, shrugging happily. “It can’t be that hard can it. I think Ben and I might have a _natural talent_ for it.”

Ben’s face scrunched up at the odd phrasing, but he didn’t think on it too long. Uncle Luke had always been a bit of an oddball, no matter how much Ben admired his artwork. His mother said it was because his uncle could get lost in his mind and ‘religion’, making it difficult for him to connect with others.

Curious about his uncle’s supposed ‘religion’ Ben would ask questions, only to be gently shut down by both his mother and father.

_“It’s a spiritual religion.”_

_“It’s a_ crackpot _religion.”_

_“Han!”_

_“It is!”_

Research and some well phrased, sneaky questioning told Ben it was some hybrid of Neo-Christian-Buddhist-Transhumanism type religion that apparently did not _exist_.

After that, he did not bother to pry anymore.

“Fine, take over. I am going to take a nap,” Leia announced, not in the mood to argue with any of the men. She shucked off her apron and walked out of the kitchen, not bothering to look back.

Han soon followed after, heading for the living room to watch the football game, leaving Ben and Luke alone with a partially made Thanksgiving dinner.

“I see you brought your sketchbook,” Luke commented as he prepped the potatoes. Ben nodded, not really seeing the point of the conversation, but let his uncle speak. “Almost like old times, all of us here together.”

“Yeah…” Ben said slowly, quirking an eyebrow. Opening the drawer closet to the sink, he grabbed a vegetable peeler. “I guess. I try not too think on it. Next week Mom might hate Dad enough to not speak to him for another three months or vice versa.”

Luke chuckled in agreement, starting to chop the potatoes into fours. “But it is nice to know you still sketch and draw—”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Ben asked, his hands moving methodically as he peeled the carrots and zucchini to near perfection. “I’m still an artist. I sketched before I learned how to work with any other medium. It relaxes me.”

His uncle grinned tiredly to himself. “You sound like a client of mine.”

Setting the carrot in his hand aside, Ben cocked his head to his uncle, affronted. “I thought therapists were supposed to express doctor-client confidentiality?”

Luke’s face became devoid of emotion, clearly not pleased at the sharp remark. Ben was scorned at a young age at such a violation, he could not help but look out for some other poor kid.

“I did not mention her name or her situation; not violating anything.” Luke stated after a beat. Picking up the potatoes, he dropped them into the large pot beside him. “It’s not as though you’d know her.” A melancholy shadow passed over his uncle, the man pausing his work to take a suffering deep breath before continuing. “I was just saying she’s the same. Likes to sketch to relieve stress.”

Feeling a sense of pity wash over him, Ben hummed in acknowledgment. Deciding to humor the man, Ben picked the conversation back up. “So she’s an artist?”

“The best I’ve ever seen and known,” his uncle said, pride shinning through his eyes, “well, the best I’ve seen since you.”

“Oh,” Ben utter, not expecting the compliment. Clearing his throat, Ben looked away, grabbing the carrot and peeler again. “So she’s that good? Got any work you can show me?”

“Uh…” Luke blinked for a moment, thinking. Then, “Yes, actually. Yes.”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone. Painstakingly slow, he tapped through his phone before finally handing it over to Ben.

It was a painting of a shadow. A little girl on a bike and taller boy…man—no, boy—standing next to her. Their shadows blended together, never sure where he began and where she ended. Almost appearing as one, a unit… _bonded_.

A strange prickle behind his eyes occurred. Dare he say the girl’s shadow reminded him of…

_No_.

Not possible.

Inhaling deeply, Ben hastily handed the phone back to his uncle. He turned away, trying to busy his hands and focus on anything that wasn’t _her_.

“Talented,” was all he was capable of saying, his voice ever so slightly cracking in the weight of hope.

 

* * *

 

**Present Day**

 

Despite being awake for at least an hour, Rey did not want to get up.

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a heather grey clad chest. Slowly the events of the previous day came back to her as she blinked sleep away from her eyes.

_Ben_.

Ben was here with her, and it wasn’t their connection bringing them together.

The gentle rise and fall of his breath…the weight of his arm across her abdomen….the warmth of his proximity…

All she could do was curl into him.

“I know you’re awake.” His mumble was barely heard, muffled by the pillow. His dark hair fell over his face messily, a lazy hand reaching to brush the strands away. Being this close, with the faint morning light cascading through the window, it was seeing another side of him. In their connection, there had always been a distance…a low filter of sorts, growing stronger the longer they were separated. Seeing him look real and tangible was…nice.

An effervescent, all consuming, balmy encompassing nice.

And she didn’t want to let go.

She didn’t want this nice feeling to ever go away. Not once.

“No,” she murmured, bearing her face into his chest. Her arms tightened around his torso, relishing in the fact he did not leave in the middle of the night.

A heavy sigh left him as he shifted slightly away from her, turning on his side. Gradually his eyes peeked open, his tender gaze landing on her.

“Hi,” he breathed, a brief smile ghosting his lips.

As she opened her mouth to share the sentiment, the sharp trill of her alarm clock cut through. Both winced at the obnoxious sound, Ben squeezing his eyes shut.

“Oh, I’ll uh, get that,” she said, regretfully pulling away from him.

She grabbed her cell phone, tapping the alarm off.

Only to find a handful of missed phone calls from Force Temple Counseling.

She frowned, clicking on the voicemails.

_“…if possible, please come in—”_

_“Hello, Rey this is Cassian, I called earlier…”_

_“…it is urgent. We believe there might have been a mix-up—”_

Each voicemail was vague and non-descript, causing a strange sense of apprehension to swirl inside of her. She immediately hung up, dropping her phone down on the bed.

“What happened?” Ben asked.

“Check your phone.”

Sitting up, he reached for his cell phone, greeted with his own slew of missed calls from their therapists’ office. Ben bit his lips together, not entirely pleased as he listened to a voicemail from his therapist, Jyn. Beside him, she heard the same phrases echoed from Cassian’s messages. Apparently, both wanted to see Rey and Ben for the similar reasons.

“They want us to come back in,” she said, puzzled as to why exactly both Jyn and Cassian would want to see them. “But we just saw them yesterday.”

His eyes narrowed on her as he hung up. “Are you sure no one saw you steal information? Because that is a legal offense,” he reminded her, both amused and worried by her actions.

“Of course, I’m sure!” Rey grumbled, upset Ben would accuse her of being indiscreet. “No one else was there except for me.” He pursed his lips but did not argue, instead staring intently at the darkened cell phone screen. “My question is why do they want to see _both_ of us.”

A cloud of dismay lingered over Ben, she seeing the gears in his head turning at her concern. “Well…we weren’t exactly quiet when we ran into each other, and they both have access to out files. They _can_ connect the dots, Rey.”

Cold dread spiked in her chest. If Jyn and Cassian had access to their files, then they knew Rey and Ben struggled let go of one another, to let go of their supposed imaginary friend. Only the other was real and now…now they didn’t what connected them, and that was a problem.

Curling in on herself, Rey hugged her knees to her chest. “What…what do you think…they’ll do?”

“I...I don’t know,” Ben answered honestly, sounding just as lost as her. “I have no idea what they know or what they will do.”

“Ben,” she turned to him, speaking quietly as though it would be too painful to say any louder, “we don’t know what is connecting us, or has been connecting us. As happy as I am to have you here—"She broke into a watery, closed mouth smile, unable to hide the joy she felt being with him even in her distress. “—we _need_ answers.”

“I know we do,” he said, “and we will find them.” He held out his hand to her. “Together.”

Without an ounce of hesitance, she grasped his hand. “Together.”

 

* * *

 

“We have no idea they’ll show up,” Jyn declared with a huff, squeezing then releasing her hands in a nonsensical pattern.

They’d been in the office since seven in the morning, waiting for Rey and Ben to eventually show up. A risky move to ask them to come back so soon, but if they were to speak to the pair before Skywalker came into town, it needed to be done as soon as possible.

Closing her eyes, Jyn tiredly shook her head. Dropping her head into her hand, she sighed. “We called them in the middle of the night—”

From across the room her unexpected partner in literal crime harrumphed in disagreement. He dropped a couple of sugars in each mug, bringing their coffee over to the sofa. “They’ll show up,” Cassian assured her, handing over a mug of coffee. “Here, you barely got any sleep. Some caffeine might help.”

Begrudgingly, she took the drink, her focus remaining on the ground. The warmth of the mug calmed her, but did not ease her concerns. “We don’t even know if they will believe—”

“Don’t think like that.” Cassian sat down on the sofa across from her. Of course, he’d try to be an optimist at a time like this. Clearly, he wasn’t seeing the realistic repercussions. It felt as though he didn’t pour over their notes and research for hours on end the previous night, even though he sat beside her through it all.

Her mouth formed a hardline, leaning back into the sofa. “We need to prepare for the worst—”

“— _and_ the best,” he insisted. “We need to think positive; they could know more than we give them credit.”

Remaining neutral, Jyn set her coffee down, clasping her hands together tightly. “I never expected you to be so…”

“Determined?”

“Hopeful.”

“Someone needs to be.”

A sharp knock brought both their attentions. Cracking open the door, the receptionist poked her head in. Her sympathetic smile did not soothe either Jyn or Cassian.

“I just received a call from Ms. Kenobi and Mr. Solo a few minutes ago—uh,” the woman shifted nervously from foot to foot, struggling to get the words out, “ _both_ would like to terminate their services with Force Temple Counselling. Which is a little odd Mr. Solo considering he has been with us for over a decade and—”

“Thank you, Kathleen,” Jyn spoke up, her voice firm despite the raging tempest brewing inside her. “You may go now.”

The receptionist nodded, shutting the door firmly behind her.

“‘Hopeful’, _my ass_ ,” she grumbled, unceremoniously dropping her face into her hands. “Fucking, dickbags. What the hell are we going to do now?”

Cassian said nothing, apparently stunned by the turn of events.

“No, _seriously_ ,” she dropped her hands, sitting up straighter, hands clenched, “what are going to do now? They don’t want to come back and Skywalker will be here at some point today—”

“They must have met up,” Cassian interrupted, chewing on his thumbnail furiously, deep in thought.

“What?” Jyn exclaimed in disbelief. “ Sure, they ran into each other in the office, but I highly doubt they’d actively look for each other. They must be experiencing trauma at the sight of the person—”

“Or they were even more determined to find the other,” he argued with a helpless shrug. “Them finding each other is the only explanation why’d they both terminate services.”

Jyn played with the idea of Rey and Ben meeting up, finding each other. Based off of what she knew, seeking Rey seemed out of character of Ben. But Rey seeking him? A girl desperate for connection, willing to risk her own understanding of the world to achieve it? Well, Jyn wouldn’t put it past her.

“Let’s say, they are with each other right now,” Jyn theorized, “What would they even be doing?”

 

* * *

 

“This is batshit crazy.”

She was freezing, the outside air cool and misty from the late night rain. Bundled up in a sweater and raincoat, Rey shuffled closer to Ben. The massive man radiated heat like a furnace, the jacket he wore the previous day doing enough to keep him somewhat warm.

Most of the street downtown was empty at nine in the morning, a couple of cars passing through, and the office spaces displaying ‘for rent’ signs. No liked to come down to this part of town, spooked out my the older buildings decay and flickering lampposts.

Yet in the grey dewy light, the street just appeared sad and lonesome.

“It might be the only way we understand what is happening,” Ben told her, checking the address on his cell phone once more.

“A psychic?” Rey uttered in disbelief. Her nose scrunched up at the tacky neon sign in the window— _Madam Maz’s Seeing Eyes._ “I always knew you liked looking into this stuff, but this is farfetched—”

“So is being mentally connected to someone for twenty-one years,” he shot back bluntly, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Plus, she has great Yelp reviews.”

Rey quirked an eyebrow up at him. “We are putting our lives in the hands of Yelp reviews?”

“Do you have a better idea, Sweetheart?” Ben taunted, starting to walk to the building’s entrance.

Gritting her teeth together, Rey shook her head, following his lead.

Her eyes caught the hours marked in small print on the windows. “She isn’t even open.”

Ignoring the assessment, Ben knocked hard on the door. A small shriek and stumbled followed, Rey and Ben glancing at each other. A loud slam from inside echoed through the building. Then silence.

Nothing happened for moment, both starting believe they were going to be left outside until operating hours.

“Maybe we should—”

The door then swung open, revealing a short, wise eyed woman with an array of fabrics draped over her body.

“Hi,” Ben began, trying his best to be pleasant; a difficult feet for the man, “We are here to see Maz.”

“Then you came to right place, child,” the woman grinned, her blue eyes large behind her magnifying glasses. “I have been waiting for you, young Solo,” she then turned to Rey, “and you as well Kenobi. Two most powerful users in existence on my doorstep, a true blessing of the Force.”

The two froze at her words, momentarily stunned by her intuition.

No wonder she got great Yelp reviews. They might have found the answers they were looking for a lot sooner than they expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo...
> 
> WE MET MAZ AND POE. And it seems like Kaydel and Poe got off on the wrong foot. Maybe things will get better? All I can say is true love in this fic is when the girl kicks the guy in the shin ;) (*cough* read chapter 1 to get it *cough*)
> 
> AND THAT FLASHBACK! Just a reminder: Luke does not have all the facts. No one actually has all the facts (Not Jyn and Cassian, San Tekka, Kaydel and Maz, or Rey and Ben) except for US DEAR READERS! AHH THE DRAMATIC IRONY! 
> 
> Soft Reylo is always great... :) I thought it'd be nice to give them a couple more soft moments. But of course, that does not help Jyn and Cassian with their Luke problem.
> 
> Also, I don't know if anyone has caught it in the last couple of chapters but...Rey and Ben are ignoring/avoiding something that has happened between them in the past. It might be the only thing you lovely readers will not know from other POVs filling in the blanks.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> Will Poe ever come around to the idea of the Force? It seems like everyone is are various levels of Force sensitivity... AND WILL JYN AND CASSIAN EVER GET A HOLD OF OUR LOVELY LITTLE (*cough* lovers *cough*) IMAGINARY FRIENDS?
> 
> follow me on twitter @intpslytherin97


	9. Trapdoor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next chapter. Lots of info revealed in this one!
> 
> Also here is the link to the updated playlist [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ssXMxWtwmIakjQTaNTXER)
> 
> Highly recommend listening to Trapdoor by Twenty One Pilots. I think it fits several of our characters in this chapter!
> 
> Typos will be fixed later! Enjoy

**Holding On To You**

**Part One**

**Chapter 9: Trapdoor**

 

* * *

 

 

“What the—” Poe blinked blearily up at Kaydel, his head lulling to the side on the window.

His face had been pressed up the glass moments ago, knocked out cold from the ungraceful maneuvering she needed to do get him into the car.

Just fifteen minutes ago, Maz shoved keys in Kaydel’s hand and helped lug the unconscious man out of the building through the back door. The younger woman could not catch much from Maz’s awed yet frantic mutterings to get the two out of there, but she listened nonetheless.

“Shit,” he groaned, rubbing his eyes. “What the hell happened?”

“You annoyed the shit out of Maz and she knocked you out,” she answered bluntly, turning on her right blinker. “Don’t annoy her again or she’ll do worse.”

“Like what?”

“Like make you trip over your own two feet.”

“Sounds like you are speaking from experience,” he gruffed, scratching his chin.

“I am,” she intoned, already bored with the conversation. “So I am going to just lay the law simply—what Maz says is true, all of it, even if it is cryptic as fuck.”

He sat up, voice groggy with sleep, but his face alert and ready to argue. “You—you actually believe in that ‘Force’ narrative?”

“Uh huh.” Kaydel nodded her head with vigor for good measure. “Of course I do—she provided some understanding to my problems.”

“So she is be all of this Force voodoo?” he asked condescendingly. “You believe a random woman about what might be a serious neurological condition?” He then glanced at her attire, becoming more stunned by the second. “And somehow you are a _nurse_?”

Stopping at a red light, she cocked her head to the side, shooting him a smug look. “For someone who likes to call out my apparent beliefs, you seem to have no qualms for waking up in car with a stranger.”

He had the right mind to shut up then, slumping in his seat petulantly.

Yeah, that’s what she thought. All talking shit about her and Maz, only to realize what deep shit he seemed to have sunk himself in. Typical arrogant male.

The light flashed green, Kaydel finally making her turn.

Eyes flickering to him and his undeniably pathetic form, she decided to cut the guy a break. Kaydel wasn’t one to back down from a challenge nor fall back on her word. She promised Maz she’d help this guy understand the Force, and by goodness she’d try.

“The Force is the reason you are in this situation,” she said as they passed by the opening shops and storefronts. “It likes to make our lives shit for the betterment of the world or something.”

At least, that’s how Maz made it sound. They were simply forced—no pun intended—to live their lives as best they could with the Force’s blessing. Kaydel believed the Force was the reason for her life to be terribly awkward and knowing too much information on others, but she didn’t quite agree with abiding to the Force’s will.

She liked to believe she had some control over her life. To be less trapped.

He made a non-committal sound, gaze trained on the passing sidewalk.

“If it makes you feel any better, I use to be like you. Constant headaches, hearing way too much, thinking I was going bonkers.”

“And what made it stop?” he asked, his voice every so slightly tinged with begrudging hope.

Tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, Kaydel shrugged helplessly. “I never said it stops. It just becomes… _manageable_.”

“You make this sound like an illness,” Poe muttered, her plain yet brittle tone not lost to him.

“To some it is.”

 

* * *

 

When Jyn Erso was sixteen, she ran away.

And she was caught within the first ten minutes. Her escape plan wasn’t thought out, and the housekeeper caught her sneaking out the second floor window.

She tried again three weeks later with success. Only for her father to send out the brigade and his friends at Scotland Yard to search for her.

Another attempted did not occur until she was seventeen, at that point Galen knew better to let her come back in her own time since law enforcement could not truly become involved in the matter.

She didn’t come back for three months.

Upon her return she received the quietest and still-stone reprimanding imaginable from her father. More gray hair specked his temples, and harder lines wrinkled his face in the short separation, but neither commented on his visible worry. His face was etched in her memory like a drawing, all shadows and light, and capturing life she wished to forget.

She stayed tight lip during his interrogation of her whereabouts and learned quickly to mask her emotions around stern and mild men. Never let them know weakness lived inside her and they’d never feel the need to pry. It worked well with her father, he dropping the subject once he realized she’d not let out a peep or combust into tears.

Jyn Erso learned about a poker face and used it well.

(Cassian Andor loved to challenge her strengths. However, another matter for another day.)

Never did she think her father and Skywalker would have anything in common. Until now.

Dr. Luke Skywalker, a rather prolific artist who went into early retirement only to uptake art therapy a few years later. A prodigy, but now a faded man. He wore dull and worn clothing; browns and beiges, reminiscent of a monk. A sweater loved with age and a gray beard to compliment his weary face and harkening eyes.

“And you two are sure they haven’t been in contact?” Skywalker asked, sitting in the sofa across from Jyn and Cassian.

“Positive,” Cassian answered easily, without an ounce of remorse.

Jyn nodded in agreement, continuing their planned explanation. “Both are a little traumatized by running into each other. It seems as though Ben has taken to throwing himself into work and Rey believes the entire thing was a trick of the mind.”

The older man hummed and did not comment. Picking his green tea, he drank thoughtfully.

“A ‘trick of the mind’?” he repeated, sighing tiredly. “Poor thing…” he rubbed his forehead and muttered, “ _what have I done_?”

Cassian and Jyn glanced at each other worriedly, inducing a small staring match between the two.

Who would ask the inevitable?

Him or her?

Jyn blinked.

 _Damn it_.

“Sir, if I may ask…why were you so adamant they must not…” she swallowed, pushing her courage to maintain despite her emerging grievances, “be together?”

He pursed his lips before intaking a sharp breath, “How much research did you do on the Force?”

“Just Force Links,” Cassian supplied, “We could find nothing on Force Bonds.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Luke remarked, his focus falling back into his green tea, “Force Bonds are myths…well, thought to be a myths until Rey and Ben.” Weight of time and pain rested on his shoulders, regret shinning in his eyes. “I only know so much…it’s why I traveled to Naboo. There were rumors of ancient texts on the Force, along with some of my father’s writings. I thought I’d find some answers.”

“And did you?” Jyn prompted sternly.

His grim expression was answer enough.

“So you’ve been trying to find answers,” Cassian said, eyeing the older man warily, “to Rey and Ben’s Force Bond?”

“No…” Luke set his mug down, leaning forward with his hands clutching his knees. His knuckles turned white as he struggled to find the words to say. “Rey and Ben’s Force Bond…those cannot be broken. Everything I know points to,” he sighed deeply, looking up at the two gravely, “imamate disaster.”

For the first time since their meeting, Cassian paled at Luke’s words.

“Some of my research has been pointing towards some of the oldest prophecies in the Force religion. Specifically the balance of the Light and Dark,” Jyn’s eyebrows raised at the mention of such energies, not expecting him to acknowledge the prophecy of the Jedi Prime. These days, most lingering followers of the Force thought the Jedi Prime to be a myth, as Skywalker himself described. But Rey and Ben…their connection was an anomaly. “And I never realized their possible roles in this until a couple of years ago when—” He cut himself off, an uncomfortable stiffness in his back. Shaking his head, he picked up his explanation in a new starting point. “The two have been connecting through the Force for so long, there is no telling what magnitude of energy may occur when they are within the same space.”

“You decided it best to keep them apart…because you don’t fully understand what would happen?” Cassian asked sharply, raising an accusatory eyebrow.

Rubbing his eyes, Luke frowned, disappointed either by the question or of himself. “Keeping them apart is for their own good. Not just because of the Force, but their own sanity.”

“I’d be careful throwing around that word,” Jyn commented off handedly, “What if seeing each other is the exact thing they need, to help their ‘sanity’?”

“It’s not,” Skywalker argued, a cloud of frustration and pity hanging over his head. “You two might have access to their files and their medical information, but how long have they been your clients? A week or two?” He shook his head, leaning back into his seat. “I know those two personally, since they were kids, respectively. There is one thing those notes you probably poured over _don’t_ have.”

“What?” Jyn asked, hoping her aggravation didn’t seep into her voice.

“Their unwavering affinity and devotion to one another,” Skywalker stated softly. A sad, tender smile emerged, the picture of hopeless man fighting for an inkling of joy.

Beside her, Cassian frowned, considering the other man’s words like a puzzle piece. “Dr. Skywalker, are you suggesting…” he huffed a laugh, a slightly lost look in his eyes, finding his next words unbelievable, “are you suggesting Rey and Ben love each other?”

Jyn knew the answer. She did not need to look at notes or know Rey and Ben for years to see the answer. The two terminated services nearly simultaneously, went through years of therapy, lacked romantic relationships, and held undying faith in the other—imaginary or not.

It wasn’t rocket science—it was basic observation and looking at the facts.

“For what other reason would two individuals hang to the hope of the other possibly being real for this long than to love one another?”

 

* * *

 

**January 11th, 2013**

“Ben, have you ever been in love?”

He froze, unable to look up from his computer screen.

Did—did she just ask—did she just ask what he _thought_ she just asked?

Peeking at her, she sat with a copy of _Catcher in the Rye_ (a mandatory reading she initially bemoaned about), waiting patiently for Ben to answer her seemingly innocent question.

Damn it.

Awkwardly, he coughed into his shoulder, hoping to get air moving through his lungs once more.

“Uh, sure.”

She raised an eyebrow.

He tried again.

“I guess…?”

She gave a condescending smirk.

Well, _shit_.

“No. No I have not,” he finally answered honestly, the strange tension in his chest dissipating.

“Oh.” She shifted in her seat, as though suddenly uncomfortable. Her eyes lifted from her book to him, her grip on the hardcover tightening briefly. Firm, strong, steady— _annoyed_. So very clearly annoyed by his answer.

It wasn’t like he was a mind reader, damn it.

Rey shrugged, fiddling with the corner of a page. “I just assumed since you are ya know, old—”

“— _Older._ Not old—”

“—that you would have experienced being in love.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong. Most people his age were either in serious relationships or married. Twenty-seven was closer to thirty than to twenty. While he’d never been one to grow up and mature at the same rate of his peers, Ben could not help but feel isolated on the matter.

He didn’t even realize someone would find him attractive until that one girl—Kayla?—told him rather snarkily. Growing up, Ben attended public school up until he was twelve, eventually sent to an academy in the city, instead of the country side school in walking distances from his home. An academy that had the _Organa_ name plastered on almost every single building because his adoptive grandparents were major philanthropists and _of_ _course_ his mother followed in their footsteps.

She was more Organa than Skywalker, and she’d like to keep it that way.

Most of the students there were from money and were children of highly acclaimed officials; a few were scholarship, and were the intelligent individuals in the bunch.

Naturally, Ben drifted to the intellectuals, only to be outed once his mother came for her monthly visits.

Making friends wasn’t easy, unable to fit in with either circle of students. He avoided most school dances and social activities—

_“Ben, you will regret not going to Homecoming,” his mother insisted._

_“I’ll regret not finishing The Order of the Phoenix,” he told her simply, flipping the next page of his book._

_._

_._

_._

_“You have a lovely voice, Ben. Audition for the musical, I think you’ll have a lot of fun.”_

_The flier for the spring musical was set before him, Ben only halfway through his dinner. His mother tried to make a habit of coming over a for a couple of meals, just see Ben and—though she’s never admit it—check in on Han._

_“I don’t like being on stage.”_

_“You use to love being on stage—”_

_“Well, I do now.”_

_._

_._

_._

_“Go to the game,” Han joked, “I know it’s basketball and you don’t really like it, but there will be plenty of cute girls—”_

_“No,” Ben sneered, throwing his backpack over his shoulder sloppily. “I’m just going to work on my art project.”_

_Maybe if he was quiet enough and lost in the art, Rey would appear. Their usual daily connections were fading into weekly occurrences, Ben beginning to treasure every moment he had with her._

_So what if he missed a game? He’d rather miss some sports game than miss time spent with his favorite person._

_“But—” Han then waved him off, a sag of defeat in his shoulders. “You know what? Go. Go ahead. Go work on your project. Just make sure you lock the door when you come back in from the back.”_

_._

_._

_._

Yes, Ben did not make it easy on himself and he wasn’t exactly the kindest to his parents efforts. But he was also the one who had to go to school and handle the stares and whispers of notorious gossips. Somehow his peers discovered he went to therapy, and he was officially dubbed a ‘nutcase’—shitty, but true.

So having romantic feelings and a relationship while a teenager? A big fucking joke.

Adulthood is another chaotic series of events. College. No college. Poe Fucking Dameron and his stupid band. College again. Moving around. Becoming estranged to Han _and_ Leia. Coming back together again. Becoming frustrated with his mother, to the point they no longer speak—a recent development, but a development nonetheless.

Yet, he was a man. A man who very well couldn’t be lonely all the time. There may have been a woman or two.

.

.

.

“ _I mean, it is pretty cool…if you look at it sideways,” Paige said as they observed an analytical cubism piece.  “I just don’t understand why someone would want to make something that can’t even be viewed properly from the naked eye.”_

_Ben frowned, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. “Because that is how the artist perceives the world.”_

_Sure, he might not always understand a piece or what it represents, but someone out there did. And for that someone, that one piece will mean the world to them because they’d feel less alone. Even if it was some analytical cubism…Maybe logical minds appreciated such a form._

_Paige chuckled under her breath_

_“That is such a romanticized view on artists,” she began to step away, leading them to the next portrait. “Maybe they just slapped color on the wall and called it a day. I don’t think everything has a meaning.”_

_“You were probably a delight in Literature classes,” Ben remarked dryly._

_Her eyes narrowed. “I was valedictorian.”_

_Ben raised an eyebrow, not quiet believing her, but did not have the energy to argue. After all, he had to defend piece after piece in the museum because the woman apparently wasn’t fond of art._

_Briefly, he wondered why the hell his mother set them up on a blind date._

_Probably to get to consider something beyond being an artist. A real job, as his mother liked to put it._

_The date came to a close soon after, but not before Paige attempted to sneak a kiss in—_

_Lips were quickly pressed against his own, feeling foreign and odd. Sloppy and firm, the strange combination causing Ben to freeze like some pimpled faced teenager._

_A faint urge in him taunted him to continue, to fully kiss Paige. A curious, primal urge to name it._

_Just as he was about to give in, a vicious_ yank _in the back of his mind sent him reeling back._

 _A swirl of—_ this is wrong, this is wrong, no, no, not her, wrong move, wrong move _—to a sharp quick end thought of—_ what about Rey?

What _about_ Rey?

_Where the hell did that come from?_

_A sicken slap then shocked him out of his trance._

_“If you didn’t want to kiss me, you could have just said so,” Paige told him, stepping away and leaving him by the bus stop. She stomped away, Ben watching until she turned the corner, not once feeling the need or obligation to run after her._

_Paige was a strong woman, she’d probably karate chop him if he offered to walk her home._

_Astonished, he lifted his hand to the burning mark on his cheek. Though he did not a have a mirror or window to see his reflection, Ben knew the skin became red. Sore and tender, he placed his hand on his cheek, resting his jaw in the cup of his palm._

_All he could think was: why did his mind jump to Rey?_

_And how was he going to fix this…because this wasn’t fucking right._

_It couldn’t be._

_He never once viewed Rey as anything but_ little Rey _._

 _Blinking tiredly, tears welling in his eyes, Ben reminded himself Rey was fifteen and—and she wasn’t_ real _._

_._

_._

_._

And thus, he was alone.

He didn’t try to pursue any romantic relationships. Once he attempted to ‘have a hook up’ and it led to him panicking halfway through and offering to buy the girl a meal and paying for her Uber due to his lack of performance.

It was awful and embarrassing and Ben decided maybe love wasn’t for him. Maybe his life was designed to make art and talk to a girl who was a figment of his imagination. And it wouldn’t be that bad; he could pretend to be happy with such circumstances. Pretend until the false tenses became truth—after all, isn’t that what everybody else did with their lives?

“Why do you ask?” Ben ventured, momentarily startling Rey.

She must have thought the conversation was to be dropped due to his lack of adequate response. Understandable.

In the corner, where she sat by the window, light cascaded upon her almost as though she were solid and real. She swallowed and played with the tip of her braid, sitting uncomfortably. She appeared more woman than he’d ever seen her in that a moment. A subtle moment that could easily be collected into his mental scrapbook of Rey sitting and reading in silence. But all those memories were of a child who was lonesome yet placid both of them with a pleasant smile or a clever frown.

These days she wore a pensive air of indifference and an underlying buoyancy of heed.

Her pleasant smile was something of the past, fading as she grew and their connections became less frequent. Were these connected? Perhaps.

She closed her book.

“I don’t know, it was just a question,” she answered sharply, no longer in the mood for soft chitchat.

A teasing smirk threatened to emerge on his lips. Catching a glimpse of this, Rey glowered at him. “Does someone have a crush?”

“Fuck, no,” she declared, arms crossed stubbornly over her knees.

“Wow, a ‘fuck, no.’ Where’d you learn that?” he quipped jokingly, earning an eyeroll from Rey.

She picked her book back up again. “I don’t know. Some idiot who never leaves me alone.”

Unable to help himself, Ben smirked. He tried to focus back on his sketch, but found himself distracted by his friend.

 

* * *

 

**Present Day**

Firmly, Cassian closed the office door behind Skywalker.

Neither expected him to show up so quickly, in less than a twenty-four hours. He must’ve had more connections than either anticipated, arriving in the middle of the day with little prompting.

“That was…” Jyn sighed, rubbing her eyes, “a shock.”

An understatement, Cassian did not feel the need to correct. Dropping his forehead against the door, he nodded once. The doorknob became a crutch as he placed his calm and collected mask back on.

There wasn’t a need to worry Jyn, not when she was already trying to get in contact with either Rey or Ben. They’d been in the middle of planning their next move; a visit, or a perfectly planned run in. Not the best tactics, but some of the few options left to assure Rey and Ben were together and their whereabouts. Specifically, Skywalker not having his hands on them.

“But nothing we can’t handle,” he assured her.

God, he sounded ridiculous. Like some Casanova in film noir, planning on saving the day. All he wanted to do was validate Rey and Ben’s feelings. Be a support they may have never had; tell them and help them understand the other was real all this time.

Yes, Skywalker knew the pair since they were young, but he did not seem to understand the ramifications his actions had on the adults _now_.

Both had enormous trust issues, preferred to be alone but did not like being lonely, and were stubborn in their ways to a fault. The pair were parallel little islands, desperately in sight of the other but never touching, only sharing the crashing ocean between them.

He and Jyn were supposed to _help them_ —not end up in this shitty situation.

“Cut the optimistic crap,” she muttered, aggravated. Grabbing a fist full of her hair, she coiled it and tied it in a sloppy bun on her head. “Just stop with this light ‘Everything will be _okay_ ,” she spat the word.

Slapping her hands on her thighs, she stood up. Her bright blue eyes zeroed in on him viciously, as though temping him to make a false move.

Little did she know he was more than tempted.

Defiantly, she crossed her arms and glared at him. “Hate to break it to you, but nothing is _okay_.”

“I never said it was,” Cassian spoke to the door rather than Jyn, his voice a hair above a murmur.

“For once can you admit things have gone to shit—fucking Skywalker is here, telling us his beliefs of the Force that even I haven’t heard of,” she rolled her eyes, far more candid than she been in the last twenty-four hours. But that did not deter the intensity of her words. “and our clients are missing!”

He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking a hand out to her. “No—no, they are not missing. We are not dealing with _missing_ people—”

A loud, elongated groan came from her. “My god—can you let a woman _vent_ for a moment? You do understand therapists need a therapist as well for the shit we hear from out clients and our own fucked up lives.”

Cassian chuckled emptily, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I don’t have a therapist.”

“Then either you are psycho or a fucking liar,” she declared a half cackle of displeasure. She then shrugged, “Maybe both.”

Inwardly, he smirked at her wording. “It is insensitive to use those terms—”

“Don’t go therapist on me,” she countered, stalking closer to him.

Lifting his gaze every so slight, he watched her from under his lashes. “I thought you wanted a therapist?”

A cry and huff escaped her as she rubbed her sweaty palms against her slacks. A strained, insincere grin formed on her lips. “Are you like this with your clients? Parrot back their own words minutes later? Make them look like utter fools?”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Cassian stood taller, observing his fierce colleague. While short and slight, Jyn Erso commanded the room with a fleeting glance. Her bright eyes captivated her clients and friends alike, but her sharp tongue brought people to her side or worse, her mercy.

He knew the moment he met her—politely shook her hand as San Tekka introduced the two—she’d cause trouble. From the stories he heard from others who had worked with her in the past and incomprehensible connections, Cassian learned Jyn was reckless and rebellious in her young age, but somehow became a stickler for the rules when it came to her career. A strange but nonetheless interesting development.

He briefly wonder what made her so high strung.

“No, I actually listen and help them see the _logic_ of their situation. Validate their emotions—"

She frowned, rubbing her temple.

“Well you are awful at the validation part,” she said leaning against the wall beside him. Chewing her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes scanned the room aimlessly. “I am not one to cry—never have been, not even when my mother died—but I feel like crying right now.”

He shouldn’t have been surprised to learn Jyn was not a crier. She exuded coolness and faint callousness; a woman like her would not cry over the smallest or largest fancies.

Yet to hear her admit to such a folly, Cassian pitied her.

Crying was cathartic, a necessary human experience. It was natural to cry over loss and joys. Not a right of passage of being a functioning human, but a mere fact of the human existence. He’d never understand when he’d have clients boasting about their lack of tears, as though not crying over death of loved ones or massive personal failures was something to be prideful about. Such reactions led to an underlying problem…a lack of vulnerability.

Following her lead, he leaned back against the door. “Then why don’t you?” Cassian offered quietly.

She glanced at him. Her lips twitched upward before dropping down once more. “Don’t be all therapist with me.” Exhaling from her nose, she turned on her side to face him. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Not feel things,” she said with a snort. “I feel like I have gone from zero to a hundred this entire

He licked his lips, smiling genuinely. “I feel things.”

“Could have fooled me,” she muttered, “You with your handsome calmness.”

“Handsome?” He quirked an eyebrow.

She shrugged, pushing herself away from the wall. “Excuse me, I have appointments to attend to. Call me when you have good news, or some plan.”

As she reached for the door, Cassian moved away, letting her leave.

While a part of him want to know more, assure her, or comfort her, he found it better to ignore these urges. They both had responsibilities to follow and their endeavors can wait. Hopefully Rey and Ben had enough sense to stay in one place.

From the other side, Cassian heard Jyn pleasantly greet Dr. Snoke. The old man’s voice croaked back before their idle small talk faded away from his door.

Closing the door, he walked back to his desk and opened his laptop. Scanning his emails, his eye caught one from one Kay-Tuesso. A unwilling friend who sometimes provided more problems than help, but a loyal companion through and through. The two worked together for sometime on the police force, Kay-Tu mostly involved in researching intel and data.

An idea then formed in his mind—maybe Kay-Tu _could_ provide some help.

 

* * *

 

**Meanwhile…**

“Forget what I said before. I have a bad feeling about this…” Ben mumbled in Rey’s ear as Maz led them deeper into her office. The hall was dim with candles lining the walls, reminding him of an ancient cave in the depths of a palace.

Choosing not to speak, Rey reached for his hand, threading their fingers together. His dwarfed hers, but her grip remained equal in strength. Glancing up at him, she squeezed his hand lightly.

She did not contradict him, but she did not agree. Instead, she simply walked a couple steps ahead, his guide to the lit room at the end of the hall.

Upon entering the room, Maz motioned to cushions on the floor. “Please take a seat.”

“Are you going to read our palms?” Rey asked quirking an eyebrow as she released Ben’s hand. The pair crouched down to the plush cushions, sinking into their unsupportive seats.

The older woman chuckled as she sat across from them. “Oh, no. That is all for show. I don’t need to look at your palms to know who you are and what you can do.”

Her magnified eyes watched the two with great hunger, observing every little move with a pleasant yet teasing smile.

“That’s…quite a gift,” Ben settled on, feeling too large for the compact palm reading room.

Lights hung low and draped warm colored fabric cause a claustrophobic tension in his body. His knees bumped against Rey and small coffee table set out before them, unable to move comfortably in the space. Just as he was about to stand, Rey’s firm hand rested on his kneecap, a sense of calm washing over him.

“Yes,” Maz nodded sagely, “it is. But enough about me—you two came here for a purpose. What is on your mind children?”

Plenty was on Ben’s mind, more than anyone would think. Enough to put him on edge.

Ben swallowed, licking his lips as he looked over at Rey. Silently he urged her to speak for them. Neither were great with words, but out of the two, Rey knew how to hold her own better without making too much a fool of herself.

“Ben and I…we come here looking for answers to our connection,” Rey said clearly, her chin held high.

“Your connection?” Maz echoed, humming in thought. “Connection through the Force?”

Ben’s brows creased. There was the mention of the Force again—what was this woman going on about?

Apparently Rey felt the same, correcting Maz. “No, our connection to _each other_. Not this ‘Force.’”

Sensing the tension rise up like a wave through her body, Ben gently laid his hand on hers. A soft exhale left her, fears and frustration tiding back, once again at bay.

Across from them, Maz’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Curiously, she examined them, her fingers steepled under her chin.

“To understand your connection to each other, you must understand your connection to the Force,” she explained patiently.

Confused, Rey’s grip on his hand became taut. A mix of fear and apprehension bubbled inside her, the strange sensation lingering in Ben’s chest.

“What is the Force?” she asked, the air thickening in anticipation. As though begging for the fog to be lifted.

“It is the beginning and end of all things,” Maz supplied, her word natural yet robotic, as though memorized. “There is Light. There is Dark. There is—”

“ _Balance_ ,” Ben found himself uttering.

Rey stared at him, stunned and overwhelmed by his own emotions of fear. Meanwhile Maz watched on, pridefully.

He knew those words…an old rhyme or chant spoke to him years ago yet never at all…

Or maybe in another life, his soul hiding the answer right under his nose.

Petrified of what he did and did not know.

He did not like this. Ben did not like this… _at all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well.
> 
> ALOT WAS REVEALED! Let me know what you caught or what struck you as intriguing in the comments (after all, nothing is a coincidence when it comes to my writing. Everything will serve a purpose!) Do you agree with Luke's motives? Is he still not trustworthy? How about Maz? What should we think about her? WHEN THE HELL WILL JYN AND CASSIAN FINALLY BANG???
> 
> And to clarify: Ben is not in love with Rey in the flashback. He loves her, he will never not love her. But he is not in love with her.  
> We actually don't even know if he is in love with her in the present either. (But this is primarily a Reylo fic, so we all know where it will eventually go.)
> 
> If you haven't caught on, our lovely story is structuring itself to something like a Shakespeare play. We got our young lovers (Rey and Ben), our bantering duo (Jyn and Cassian), our comedic relief (Kaydel and Poe), and the elders (Maz and Luke). We have a few more important players to join the mix for a chapter or two, but friends this is our main characters for Part One (yes, part one. I already have the ending planned out and Part Two story arc had its beginning and ending as well). 
> 
> However a key player was mentioned in this chapter, but they have yet to be officially introduced. It shall be interesting *cue evil laughter*
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated; I love discussing the fic with readers! :D


	10. i'm so sorry i forgot you...let me catch you up to speed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is short, but I am trying something a little different storyline-wise. Not a main chapter persay, but an informative interlude. You'll see at the end.
> 
> And the title (which if I decide to do more chapters like this, it will be like this too) is a twenty one pilot's lyric. It's from "Chlorine". Informative interludes will have a lyric while longer chapters will have song titles. So "Chlorine" will definitely still be a title later in the fic.
> 
>  
> 
> Typos will be fixed later.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Holding On To You**

**Part One**

**Chapter 10: i'm so sorry i forgot you...let me catch you up to speed**

 

* * *

 

**May 12 th 2018**

 

“B— _Ben_?”

Her familiar voice called out in the middle of the street.

He’d been on a trip to Courscant to meet with some executives about a new ad. They wanted a freelance artist and friend of a friend gave them his contact information.

It was nice being out of the country, where the troubles of home stayed in the States. Courscant was a lovely metropolitan area with a grassy hills sounding outside the city. Picturesque from a distance and high above, but somehow incredibly dull once up close and personal. Almost like any city or town one could find in an civilized place in the world. Grey and dried green melted together in a monotone kaleidoscope, a spans both welcoming yet suffocating.

Unsurprisingly, Ben loathed the place.

And had up until he heard his named called out again by—

“Rey?” he uttered, spinning around to see the wide eye girl .

A gust of relief filled his lungs—he was _right_. He was right all along.

There she stood a perfect vision, breathing and real. Her hair was piled neatly on her head, a first he’d ever seen for her but it allowed him to see her fresh, awestruck face. The steady winds plaguing the area coiffed his hair and rustled her light coat.

They were both there.

A strange but marvelous occurrence.

Momentarily, he felt lightheaded.

“Rey, I—”

 

* * *

 

**September 25 th 2016**

 

“—I am going on the first flight out of here and I am going to find you!” she cried out, wiping her tears hastily.

She knew deep down she was _right_. There was no way he could _not_ be wandering the world somewhere. Ben was too flawed and human to be a figment of her imagination.

But to see the flicker—to hear him say he felt he was there the previous night, in room. As though he came to her.

Something weird was going on and they were going to find out. _Together_.

His hands caught her shoulders, forcing her to look up at him. His grip was frim, but she could see in his arms how he restrained to not pull her in tighter. To not squeeze her until her pulse melded into his own.

Bloodshot eyes shined back at her, concern and confusion mingling in frightening waves.

“You…you can’t leave—you’re grandfather just _died_ , Rey.” He swallowed tightly, rebel tears building and streaming freely down his face the longer her stared at her with utter fear….and oddly enough, adoration. “You have responsibilities. Things you need to take care off—”

She ripped her arms away from him, reeling back.

“You don’t get it! I can’t be _alone_!” She heaved, air not passing through her lungs.

“Rey, breathe!” Ben sputtered out frantically, rushing to her side.

She heaved again.

White spots, star like began to speckle her vision.

“ _Rey breathe! You need to breathe_!”

“I can’t be alone! Please don’t—”

 

* * *

 

**November 16 th 2013**

 

“—leave me.” Ben muttered, wiping his hand down his face. “Please, just leave me. Forget about me,” he ordered, keeping his face forward.

Rey gapped at him, before aggressively shoving his shoulder.

He barely teetered on the chair he perched on.

Ben was holding back. Not bothering to play into her push and shove.

If that were the case, then she was going to stand her ground.

One of them need to fight for this. _For them_.

Clearly, it was going to be her. No, _sadly_ , it needed to be her.

“No. No I will not leave,” she scoffed, a choked laugh surfacing out of her. “We…we just found out this is real. _Real_ , Ben.”

She was tempted to grab him, but held off.

“We…” she sighed deeply, “we need to find each other. Actually see each other and—Why the hell are you not excited about this?” she exclaimed, hands clenched at her sides.

He chewed on his bottom lips for a moment, before looking up at her. His eyes simultaneously held the world yet nothing at all. An eerie sight to witness, as though his pain—whatever it may be—was eating him from the inside out.

“Now…now is not good.” He blinked, something on his end catching his attention. “It’s not the right time,” he said, his voice mechanical, the words tumbling out awkwardly. “It’s not time…it’s not time…”

His form then slumped against the chair, completely passed out.

Instinct took hold of Rey, she kneeling in front of him in a neck-breaking speed, her arms and hands catching him somewhat before he fell to the floor. Roughly, she held him in her arms. A dead weight, but she did not faulter, adrenaline keeping her alive. Shaking hands pushed away his hair from his face, patting his jaw and feeling his pulse, as though she’d feel a heartbeat she’d never truly knew would change anything. Frantic words spilled from her mouth, she unable to hear her own whimpers and screams—

_Wake up!_

_Ben, wake up!_

_What happened? What happened on your side?_

_Please…don’t leave me. I don’t know what happened._

_Please, don’t leave me alone._

_Please…_

 

* * *

 

**June 8 th 1999**

Old Benjamin Kenobi’s home was nice with large walls and fun hiding places. A perfect place to play hide and seek. Or find a passage to a hidden world, like in _The Chronicles of_ _Narnia_.

At least that’s what Uncle Luke suggested when they were taking the bus to his friend’s house. A fun day trip to get Ben out of the flat, to stretch their legs.

Ben’s mom thought it’d be fun to spend a couple weeks in the summer with his Uncle Luke in Courscant. When she brought up the trip to Ben, she made it sound as though they’d all be spending time together as a family. After all, he only saw his Uncle Luke a couple times a year and his mother never took vacations.

Honestly, it sounded too good to be true.

And it was.

A day into their trip, Leia was called from the office about a case and decided to lock herself up in Luke’s study to do some work.

Which left Luke and Ben to figure out something to preoccupy themselves.

Old Ben had greeted them with a large smile and hushed voice. His granddaughter was taking her afternoon nap and it was best to let her sleep. Apparently, she had a difficult time sleeping at night. Strange for someone so young.

His Uncle and Old Ben got to talking right off the bat, leaving Ben to his own devices. Wandering from room to room, he perused the house. He knew better than to play with the knick-knacks sitting on the shelves, or try to grab the books too far out of his reach.

So he honestly did not mean to accidentally enter the sleepy granddaughter’s room.

But that did not stop him from coming into the room fully to snoop about; who knew how long they were going to be there. Might as well kill time.

Stepping through the room, Ben took note how different toys— _simple toys_ —were laid out on the floor, clearly dropped mid-play. A array of rocks laid in a modest pile by the bed, smooth and rough coexisting in the collection.

Sleeping on the twin size bed, was a little girl, no older than two. Her back was turned to him, facing away from the door and singular bay window. A soft, forest green knitted blanket draped over her as an afterthought. Her grandfather must have laid it on her once she succumbed to slumber. Coming closer to the edge of the bed, Ben frowned. Her brown hair was looped into familiar buns, three lining the back of her head.

He only knew one little girl who did her hair in such a way.

Rushing to the other side of the bed, Ben froze once his eyes landed on her face.

Chubby toddler cheeks and sucking her thumb, was Rey, sleeping fitfully. Brows creased and a flush shining her cheeks, she appeared trouble. Maybe a nightmare.

A tiny, frightful cry left her lips.

Instinct enacted within Ben, he stepping forward to sit on the edge of the bed. He forgot how she was of his imagination or the absurdity of her existence, and simply placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Gradually her face smoothed out and her sniffling ceased. Subconsciously she curled towards him.

Ben did not hear the sound of feet until it was too late.

His Uncle and Old Ben appeared in the doorway, at a loss at the scene before them. “Ben—”

“Why is she here?” He blinked, starting to see fuzzy bright light behind his eyes.

His head began to pound.

He was hearing too much… _too much_ —

 

* * *

 

**Later…**

 

“Are you sure it worked?” Luke asked, his fear and concern over his nephew shadowing him.

Old Ben nodded solemnly, brushing the boy’s hair away. Ben looked less feverish than he did moments ago, now under a deep slumber. Would probably be asleep for the rest of the day. Maybe longer. Young minds were not meant to be subjected to such a swift memory wipe.

“Luke, you heard him,” Old Ben muttered tiredly, “He could not take the weight of the Force—it was pressing his mind too harshly.”

This was true. The boy’s cries of pain would haunt him until the day he died. Crying out for help, waking Rey, both children weeping as they held their heads in pain.

The heartbreaking part was they tried to soothe the other, attempting to set aside their own pain to aid their friend.

Luke could do nothing but watch helplessly, all knowledge of the Force leaving his mind as he tried to console his nephew. It wasn’t until Kenobi stepped in and resolved the situation—inducing the two children into sleep with a meager thrust of a hand.

“But… he was never like this,” Luke explained, “I didn’t even know he was Force sensitive.”

Old Ben hummed sagely. “I believe they might have triggered an Force awakening in one another. I’ve read legends on the matter,” he stroked his beard, deep in thought. “Sometimes…when individuals are especially strong in the Force, their awakening would wade until someone of their caliber comes along.”

“Such as Rey?” Luke supplied.

“Possibly,” he answered vaguely. Eying the boy, Old Ben carefully raised a hand before him. He nodded once, as though sensing what believe to be true. “I fear…if they meet before the time is right, it could hurt them both. Mentally, emotionally… dare say their affiliation to either dark or light. We must wait this out.”

“ _Wait it out_?” Luke echoed in disbelief. It seemed Kenobi was starting to take pages out of Yoda’s book these days with the cryptic-ness. Neither fared well with the old wise, riddle fiend of a man. “They thought the other wasn’t really—Ben thought Rey was his imaginary friend!” Luke said with a hiss, frustrated for the children. “What are we supposed to tell them—”

“Nothing. We let the Force play it’s course until it is right. Until they are both old enough to understand and not be crushed by its weight,” Old Ben ordered simply.

“But they are Force Bond—”

“We don’t know that—”

“This incident was proof enough—”

“And not all Force Bonds are meant to be bothered,” Kenobi reminded Luke, “I am not removing their Force Bond. To do such,” he inhaled deeply, pained by the thought, “would kill them both instantly.”

Luke swallowed, his eyes locked on his pale faced nephew. His moles and freckles stood out more, his face young yet wise, caught in the beginning transition between boy and man. A boy who’d be lied to, until deemed right?

This was _wrong_.

“I can’t let you do this,” Luke declared, prepared to fight for the kids rights as Force sensitives. There was already enough oppression in there world, what with the new rise of darker users and the invisible genocide occurring. Oppressing the kids—not preparing them—this would be awful. It would have disastrous repercussions. If Rey and Ben were as strong as Kenobi claimed…they could be the solution. _The balance_. “I won’t keep this from them. Not Ben. Not Rey. They deserve to know.”

“Know they can never see each other in person?” Kenobi shot back gravely, “To know if they were to ever come in contact, bad things could happen, hmm?” He did not move from his chair, merely looking up at Luke with piercing, determined eyes. A hint of sadness lingered in his eyes, an ounce of regret. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, “I have no other choice. I must do this to protect them.”

“Do _what_?” Luke said, his gaze narrowed on Kenobi.

“This.” He waved his hand before his friend, the words coming slowly. Luke’s eyes became glazed, the memories forming into new ones. “You came over to visit, Ben fell asleep. That is all. Rey and Ben must never meet, until the Force deems it so. Keep them apart for their safety, or else darkness will reap.”

Exhausted, he dropped his hand.

What needed to be done, was done.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY.
> 
> So I ask the question--were those flashbacks real? Have Rey and Ben...known about each other...but also didn't know about each other?
> 
> Hmmmmmmmm. All I can say is Jedi Mind Tricks are at play...by who? I can't say.
> 
> (Well except the last one--that one was Kenobi. Poor Luke, tbh.)
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos always appreciated :D love discussing the fic with my readers!


	11. Message Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slowly creeps back in*
> 
> Heeeeeyyyyyyy!
> 
> I know. It's been months. Like lots of months. But here it is, the next chapter! We finally get some answers and of course, more questions :D
> 
> Typos will be fixed later! I know there might be a few in my haste.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Holding On To You **

**Part One**

**Chapter 11: Message Man**

 

* * *

 

 

**Present Day**

 

“Are you sure you know how to do this?” Cassian hissed, eyes focused and watching every movement in the hall. “Because I can take over if need be.” The apartment complex, for the most part, felt empty. After all it was the morning, nearly noon. The majority of the tenants must have been off at work or completing errands.

Luckily, this worked in Jyn and Cassian’s favor, their activities not exactly legal at the moment.

Peering up at him, Jyn narrowed her eyes darkly. “Yes, I am sure. Now just keep look out,” she ordered, twisting the pin to the left and right in efforts to unlock the door.  She then paused. “And we are sure they are not in there?” she asked again, calmly but with a hint of condescendence.

“Yes,” Cassian answered. “Kay-Tu checked—”

“Your hacker friend?” She inquired, not entirely pleased by the information.

“He is data diagnostic analysis—and I don’t have to explain his job to you,” he muttered, keeping his focus on movement in the hall.

“He is the one who told us there hadn’t been any activity at this location since early morning. How do you explain that?”

Cassian choose to remain silent.

“What did you do before coming to Force Temple Counseling?”

“Excuse me?”

“San Tekka mentioned you did a few things before deciding to do the daily practice,” she felt the latch deep in the lock begin to give to her picking, “Makes one wonder what exactly you did with that degree you apparently had for so long.”

“I’ll have you know I am qualified.”

“I never doubted that—I’m just curious.” However, his quick defense did cause more suspicions.

The lock finally gave into her work. Jyn twisted the handle the door creaking open.

“Finally,” Cassian breathed. He offered his hand to her, Jyn taking it as he helped her stand back up. His hand was warm, comforting even when she felt the least bit comforted by their actions. She was fine with breaking and entering…but the violation of privacy of clients, she felt honestly uncomfortable with despite actively breaking the law in this instance. Nudging open the door wider, the two stepped inside the apartment.

She wasn’t too sure what she expected upon entering Rey’s apartment; the young woman was a vague outline to Jyn. She only knew what files and word of mouth told her, nothing of true substance to make a base, objective judgement on. Closing the door behind them, Jyn took in the space, surprised to find the place rather put together, except for few areas. The bed was rumbled, sheets thrown half off— _a rushed exit._

Cassian stepped around her, heading to the window, looking for curtains to close off the panes. He cursed under his breath when he came up short.

“Looks like we need to just keep low and away if we are to wait for them,” he muttered. He observed the kitchen and living area, the counter stark. They both knew she recently moved in, but there was nothing frivolous to room, furniture second hand and worn with age.

Stepping towards the sofa, not planning on sitting on it but rather hover until Rey and Ben inevitably came back, she noticed a small stack of sketch books. She would have assumed they were decorative if the rest of the apartment hadn’t been so bare except for furniture and her art work.

Hearing Cassian quietly walking through the space, Jyn decided to do her own perusing. Curiously, she picked a tattered sketch book up and flipped through it.

A few lazy and quick linings of birds and foliage consumed the opening pages. All beautiful, if not tragic for their half completed state. It wasn’t until she reached the middle of the book did Jyn’s throat constrict at the sight.

It was the Jedi Temple insignia. And then another, and another—all the following pages were different iterations of the small symbol, through it was simply just the symbol…they were hidden in plain sight. Caught in the curve of sketches of tree branches and the rubble of shadowed and highlighted rocks…

An _accidental_ image.

Or better yet, a _subconscious_ image.

“What is it?” She felt Cassian move closer to her, until he lingered beside him, looking at the images over her shoulder. “It’s just sketches—”

“No, it’s not.” She shut the sketchbook and tucked it under her arm. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the page of the Prime Jedi mosaic, the edges fraying from where she ripped it out of the book. Laying it flat on the coffee table, she began pulling out all the sketch books on the table. “Check all of them for this—even if it looks slightly like it, it counts.”

Following her lead, Cassian could not help but frown at her. “I don’t understand—”

“If they are this Prime Jedi theory we have been throwing about—” He quirked an eyebrow at her sudden change of heart; it was difficult to not consider all paths at this moment, after all they were already deep into this shit. “—then this might help us, because for all we know Rey might be subconsciously drawing the symbol….her sketches might mean _something—”_

 _“_ Something prophetic?” Cassian suggested.

Jyn paused, hands squeezing the hardcover blue sketchbook.

That certainly was an idea…and certain Jedi were _thought_ to be prophetic. But maybe Rey wasn’t, but that didn’t rule out the possibility…

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Jyn settled on, cracking open the next book.

 

* * *

 

“You took me to the fucking boonies,” Poe muttered, head pressed against the window.

In the driver’s seat, Kaydel rolled her eyes. Yes, she drove only a couple of hours north to the creek she knew from her childhood, but that didn’t mean it was the _boonies_. City kids drove her nuts, and needless to say this idiot, Poe, would be no exception.

“Are you going to kill me out here? Leave my body to drown in the creek,” his voice droned with savage dejection. “I wouldn’t mind.”

With one hand, she parked the car off-road while flipping the man-baby off with the other.

He glared at the sight.

“No, I’m not going to kill you,” Kaydel answered, “I prefer to help keep people alive rather than aid them to death.” She gestured to her scrubs, not bothering to change out of them after her shift the previous night. Her change of clothes were in her overnight back, tossed in the back but at this point she didn’t even bother. Her scrubs were more comfortable than a pair of jeans and t-shirt.

He quirked an eyebrow, brushing his greasy hair back from his face. She cringed at the sight. “I still can’t believe you are a nurse and believe in this fucked up shit.”

“It’s fucked up, but it’s not shit,” she argued back, taking the keys out of the ignition. For good measure she shoved them into her bra, knowing the idiot wouldn’t dare to reach between her breasts to grab the keys and make a run for it. Opening the car door, she nodded for him to follow. “Come on dipshit, it feel better out here than in the car. Get some fresh air in your lungs.”

Begrudgingly, he listened. They sat atop the old car, some little contraption Maz had for over forty years that was still miraculously running. The sun was up and shining, Kaydel wincing at the brightness but accepting of it.

“There is Light. There is Dark. There is Balance,” Kaydel recited well from memory. Those words were the first thing Maz told her about the Force, and they stuck with her until now. She glanced at Poe, noticing his petulant pout and distracted eyes. “That’s what Maz says about the Force, the thing we both have.”

“That doesn’t explain anything—that sounds like gibberish wisdom parents feed children to get them to shut up,” he argued quietly. “Telling me that isn’t going to change my mind if I don’t know what it fucking means—”

“If you’d just shut up and stop whining and let a woman talk for a moment, maybe you would fucking know what it means!”

He snapped his mouth shut, slumping into himself pathetically.

Sighing deeply, Kaydel spoke evenly, not bothering to glance his way. “Maz is going to tell you the Force wills certain events and calls forth balance, which yeah, it _does_ ,” she said matter-of-factly, thinly veiling her disdain on the topic. “But also, people are Force sensitive and fucking live with it, and there aren’t many of us living with it because they all go batshit off the walls before they can even comprehend what the hell is happening.”

“Like me?” he said darkly, picking at the dirt under his nails.

“Sure,” Kaydel drawled out, indulging him. “But everyone’s a little different and this what those supposed elders and the legends of the _Jedi_ —” she scoffed at the name, “—don’t talk about.”

She pushed herself to the edge of the car, legs dangling off the side. She kicked them back and forth, watching as her shoes blurred together as her let herself lose focus and breathe for a moment. Re-centering herself was necessary or else she start hearing the voices in _his_ head again.

“When I was a kid, I called myself a mind reader because I could hear other peoples thoughts,” she admitted, a brittle air to her tone. She didn’t like sharing this part of her, but she need to convince a Force sensitive the goddamn Force existed, then she could speak of her experience like some testimonial. “Of course I didn’t realize how…I didn’t realize I was Force sensitive until I was older.” The memory of Ben Solo running in front of truck to what appeared to be _nothing_ but was indeed a fearsome and powerful _something_ , struck her mind. She shivered, tucking her hands under her thighs and sitting straighter than before. The memory was old and played in her mind on loop for years, she able to recite every movement perfectly, the feeling of the sight never fading away. “Shit hit the fan and I saw so many shrinks it was ridiculous…” she shook her head, brushing over the chaos in her life she didn’t care to linger on. “Luckily, Maz explained things far better than anyone else, and I believe her.”

Poe eyed her warily. “So you believe in the Force or do you believe in Maz?”

Kaydel paused, shrugging. “Both.”

He did not seem pleased with the answer, sneering at the thought of blind faith.

Hopping off the hood of the car, she turned to him with determination.

“I like to divide Force sensitives into three different categories—”

“Seriously? He uttered, huffing afterwards. “What are we—in Harry fucking Potter? Some sci-fi crap?”

“Shut up and listen idiot,” she growled, chin jutted out. “Need I remind you, you came to Maz for answers—”

“By Leia Organa’s recommendation—”

“And you trust her?” Kaydel snapped, eyes locked on his dark brown irises, “Leia Organa tells you to go to a lady you believe is a whack-job and you _listened_?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Some part of you believes this because you believe in _her_.”

Poe’s mouth remained shut, he chewing on the inside of his cheek. His nose twitched as he rubbed his jaw, his gaze dropping to the edge of the ebbing creek.

“Leia’s never steered me wrong,” Poe finally says, his voice cracking.

His eyes watered, the back of his hand wiping his eyes and nose.

While Kaydel never had the privilege to meet Leia Organa, she heard enough stories of the woman to know she was adored by her staff and colleagues. Maz spoke highly of her as well, mentioning the woman as though she were an old friend. At this point, Kaydel believed her assumption.

Inhaling sharply, Poe crossed his arms over his chest, the red flannel bunching awkwardly around his arms. “You were saying there were categories you like to divide them in?”

“Yes,” Kaydel nodded once. “Legend says the Jedi were able to do all these things, but I think that’s bullshit.” To keep herself busy and avoid his crap attitude, Kaydel began collecting stones from the ground as she explained her theories. “We have the ‘mind readers’ ala _me_ ,” she gestured to herself, earning a shake of the head from Poe. “Then there are the one’s who can move things with their mind, like telekinesis. And then there are the ones who can do the mind tricks, like ordering someone to do something and they do it without fuss—”

“I can do that,” Poe interjected quickly, disappointed at the revelation. “But I can also feel everything all the time.”

“That just means it’s stronger for you than for others,” Kaydel explained easily, “It happens.”

Kindly, Kaydel handed him a smooth stone from her ever growing pile carried by the fold of her shirt. She ignored his hesitance and turned to the creek. She practiced a swing a few times, then tossed it across the water. Not even one skip was made, the stone sinking to the bottom before it had the opportunity. Her lips twisted at the sight—she’d never been great at skipping stones, and apparently wasn’t going to become any better. But maybe Poe was decent at the toss.

She tossed another with the same level of success.

“Then there are prophets and light-dark siders.” Rubbing her hand across the medium sized stone in her palm, she handed it over to Poe. He took it, though set it aside with the other stone he didn’t bother to toss. “Those are the terrifying ones.”

“Prophets feels self-explanatory,” Poe huffed, eyes trained on the creek. “But ‘ _light-dark siders’_? That sounds like shit you made up.”

She scoffed, “All of this is shit I made up to understand the Force, I am offering you my wisdom at little cost. Take it, because it won’t happen again.”

Kaydel leaned back against the car, arms crossed lightly. With all his interrupting she should just stop talking all together. Let him get lost and confused with the indescribable events of the Force…but she had compassion. Too much compassion as her former therapist, Dr. Snoke never failed to point out. He said compassion would be her downfall, she too good and filled with potential to be hampered down by the worries of others.

However, Kaydel could not help herself. She simply cared in the easiest sense and helped when needed.

“Prophets aren’t like how you are thinking—they aren’t _psychics_ but they are clairvoyant. Just not in the ways you expect…always one steps ahead, kind of have more images in their head than anything. They have inklings, not answers and it can always change, but certain things, such as locations always stay the same.” She squinted as the sun rose higher in the sky. “I use to think Maz was a prophet…but I just think she’s ancient. Now that I think about it, I don’t think I have ever met a prophet…”

“You’ve met other Force sensitives?” Poe raised a skeptical eyebrow, but the hope in his voice could not be masked.

She tilted her head side to side, before shrugging in defeat. “A few. Not a lot. There aren’t many of us left. That’s why we have to protect each other.”

“And that’s what you are doing?” Poe examined the stones she handed him. “Bringing me out here is protecting me?” He set the stones down, getting off the car. He kicked a bit of dirt and picked up a stones, continuing her ill collection. “Protecting me from _what_?”

“From yourself.”

He paused, mid-crouch, at her words.

Lips twisted in regret, he nodded once and picked up the stone. “Fair enough.” Rubbing the stones on his jeans, the dirt fell away from the surface. “I did cause quite a scene.”

“Yup,” she agreed wholeheartedly.

He dusted off another stone, adding to the pile. “What about ‘light-dark siders’? You never explained them.”

“They are the ones who can feel the light side and the dark side with great intensity.” She shrugged. It should have been self-explanatory.

Poe openly frowned. “That’s it?”

Kaydel shifted under his sudden calculating gaze. “Yeah, _why_?”

“It’s just…you hype up all these other’s and then the last one is a dud.” He tossed a stone up in the air and caught it flawlessly. “You don’t know anything else?”

Kaydel stood up, grabbing a stone from her shirt and tossing it, not caring if it skipped. “No one does. I am going based off of little information. They just feel all emotions and feelings intensely and subsequently they feel the breathing of the dark and light forces. They fight for the balance in the Force around them—hence the name I gave it.”

“So what? They are just a walking basket-case?”

“No!” Kaydel defended. “They have control over both Forces—”

Poe turned to her sharply, his eyes keeping her still. “You make this Force sound like it is one all omniscient being, and now you are saying there are too sides of it—you’re not making any sense.”

“The Force is very difficult to explain!” she replied heatedly, flustered by his quick response. He caught the flaws in the Force theology she had known for years but vehemently avoided. “No one has the _right_ answer. We just have theories.”

“Well, I think your theories need to be reevaluated.”

With a large swoop of the arm, Poe tossed the stone in his hand. They watched silently as it skipped across the water, counting up to seven before slipping under the surface.

She glanced between him and the water. “How…?”

“You pick stones to large and round. You need flat ones to get them to skip.” He explained monotonously. “You can’t understand something if you don’t know what you are looking for,” Poe mumbled, his left hand squeezed the flat stone in his palm tightly. Defined veins popped around his wrist for a moment, but vanished as a deep shuddery breath exhaled from him. “Maybe that’s why you don’t understand these supposed prophets and dark-light siders, you’ve never met one.” A snort escaped him. “Hell, for all you know, they might not even exist.”

“Oh they exist,” Kaydel countered, “The rest of us wouldn’t be around if they didn’t.”

 

* * *

 

“Ben!” Rey shouted after him, her feet carrying her before she could fully process what just happened. The door slammed with a clank behind her, Rey skipping steps of the stoop to make up for time.

One moment they’d been listening to some prophecy—she could barely wrap her head around _that_ — and the next Ben was charging out of the room like a wild animal. Maz did not seemed fazed by this reaction, simply sipping her tea thoughtfully while Rey scrambled out of her seat after him.

His legs were too long to catch up with. Grumbling under her breath, she ran for him. “ _Ben_!”

He stopped by the empty crosswalk, hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. For a large man, he appeared so small in the distance, crumpling in on himself. All her years of seeing him, she never seen he appear _small_ —broken, yes. But small, almost sinking under the weight of an invisible force…never.

And it was frightening to see it happen, Rey at a loss of what to do.

Slowly to stop, she planted her feet a pace away from him. “What the hell was that?” she said between deep breaths.

Ben did not look up at her, his face twisted in unbearable anguish. Eyes screwed shut and lips chewed red from the anxiety— _fear_ —gnawing inside of him.

Cautiously, she laid a hand on his shoulder. At her tough his breaths came to him easier, his own hand patting her own clumsily.

“Ben, what’s—”

“I knew the words. How the fuck did I know those words…” he mumbled almost deliriously, standing to his full height with a sway in his step. “I’ve never heard those words strung together like that in my life, yet I _know_ those words—and they fucking feel like knives in my chest—”

Rey caught his arms, turning him to face him fully. “Ben, they are just words—”

“But that’s the thing,” he stressed, his hand brushing away the hair falling in her face, “they are not just words—those words did _something_.”

“Did what Ben? You can’t just keep saying they did something, when I don’t know what that something is—”

He gulped for air, pressing his forehead to her. Shifting, he crowd into her space, seeking comfort in her, as though the physically closer they became she’d understand his gibberish through osmosis.

Yet he felt so distant despite the thumping of his heart and blood.

“We’ve seen each other before—”

A frightened chuckle escaped her, she squeezing his forearms. “Of course we’ve _seen_ each other.”

He huffed, shaking his head against her. “I mean outside of our connection.”

Rey froze, her closing at the claim. Ben’s breath echoed in her ear and his shaking hands rattled against her.

“No…” she muttered lowly. “I would…I would _remember_ if we did—"

“I would too,” he professed with pure honesty. “But we don’t remember, and those words—it was like a flash of all these moments that _didn’t_ happen—that I don’t remember, but I know they did happen because I can _feel_ it…” A soft sob broke through him, rumbling from his chest to his lips. His clammy hands released her shoulders and gently cradled her face.

Rey could faintly feel herself breath, her grip tightening on him.

“No…no…” she mumbled over and over. “I would remember, I would know because it’s what I always wanted and—how?”

“I don’t know…” Ben replied, sniffling. He attempted to regain his composure, but was failing with every touch and glance. “All I can sense is someone is trying to keep us apart.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Rey found her self promising. She blinked her eyes open, her held back tears released. “Not…not again.”

For a moment, they held each other, lost in their own thoughts but present with the other. Once both gained enough composure, Rey led them back to Maz’s, her hand interlocked with Ben’s.

Upon entering the palm reading room once more, Rey stood her ground and faced Maz with steel determination.

“Tell us everything you know because someone wants us apart, and you appear to be the only one who wants to keep us together.”

Maz simply smiled behind her cup of tea, gesturing to the cushions.

“I knew you’d return children.”

 

* * *

 

 

**November 16th 2013**

 

A scuffling, followed by a thump was heard from upstairs.

Tea cup poised before his lips, Kenobi paused. It wasn’t unusual to hear Rey running about in her room. She was always a imaginative and rambunctious child, despite her Force sensitivity playing a large role in her unwavering faith in her antics. She did not fear to fall, always sure footed, nor did she anticipate to stumble, the thought of tripping never on her mind.

Yet she fell, and she stumbled, and she tripped. But always got back up again. Always veered for the higher ground, like those who came before her.

If Kenobi were a more vocally sentimental man, he’d say he was _proud_ of her.

But nevertheless, he sat and drank his afternoon tea.

Until A blood curdling scream interrupted him.

Without thought, Kenobi dropped his cup and rushed as fast as his body could carry him up the stairs to Rey’s room. His bones and heart were old, making the trek difficult, but his determination won out. As he climbed the steps, he heard frantic words spill from her mouth, as though she were unable to hear her own whimpers and screams—

“ _Wake up!....Ben, wake up!..._ ” A heavy sob echoed from the room, Kenobi’s heart rattling at the sound. He’d seen Rey cry plenty of times, she was liberal with her emotions, the world aware of how she felt with her heat on her sleeve. “ _What happened? What happened on your side?”_

Throwing open the door, Kenobi froze at the sight of Rey sobbing and heaving for dear life. As though another part of her was being ripped to shreds.

“ _Please…don’t leave me. I don’t know what happened.”_ His granddaughter spoke to thin air, kneeling in the middle of her bedroom.

He closed his eyes and… Kenobi felt it…he felt the Force signature of another close by.

Ben Solo’s presence was in the room, but gradually slipping away as his and Rey’s  connection ceased.

He knew the two were connected…he just did not expected the connection to be this strong for all these years. Most faded over time with the lack of physically interaction and personal meetings; theirs seemed to have the opposite effect, only growing sharper and increasing in durability as they aged into adulthood.

“ _Please, don’t leave me alone.”_ Rey continued to weep, hand clenched at her sides. Her eyes were closed, her breathing uneven. Face wet with furious tears, his young granddaughter looked broken beyond her years.

She was in her teens…she did not deserve this. She did not deserve any of this, but alas he could not control what the Force had planned for her, he could only prolong the inevitable.

“ _Please_ …”

No longer able to bear the sight, Kenobi shakily walked to her. Laying a gentle, weathered hand on her forehead and quick mutter of orders, Rey slumped against the floor, unconscious to the world.

Releasing her, Kenobi staggered away. Energy left his being in agitated waves, knowing he was wreaking havoc on his own minimal life force to perform such acts. Clumsily, he caught himself on her bedpost, taking a seat on the edge of her storage trunk.

Watching her carefully, Kenobi sighed in relief as her chest rose and fell.

 _She was alive_. That’s all that mattered. He needed to keep her alive.

He promised himself he’d never mindtrick her again after the first time. Rey was his _granddaughter_ , his last living kin. To wipe away her memory was to wipe away another piece of her…another piece of their little family.

But he could not stand to see her in pain, withering over the revelation of her bonded. The gravity of the Force was too harsh against them. They could not be hidden from each other forever, eventually they’d need to learn the truth and find a new path together.

That was what was promised all those years ago…

Yet he could not keep her safe forever, he could not hang on to his life until the time was right. He knew his time to pass was coming and he could not leave Rey to her own devices.

Swallowing tightly, Kenobi stood up and left the room. Part of him wanted to help Rey back to bed, tuck her in like she was a small child again. However the creak in his bones and pant of his breath stopped him from entertaining the thought. He could only do so much for her, his ability to care for Rey like a proper guardian dwindling down as the day went by.

Reluctantly he left her on the floor, alone. She’d awake thinking she slept walked or rolled off her bed, all memories of the last day forgotten. Hopefully only the last day; minds were finicky things to tamper with, Kenobi’s fear for his granddaughter increasing with every mind wipe.

Despite his own desires, he knew what needed to be done.

He needed to make a call before it was too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kenobi...WHY? YOU STILL HAVEN'T EXPLAINED THINGS DUDE. (Also did you guys catch that scene was a continuation of one from the previous chapter?)
> 
> THEY KNOW THEY HAVE MET MORE THAN ONCE. DID YOU THINK I WOULD POST THAT PREVIOUS CHAPTER WITHOUT EXPLAINATION??? Nope, nope, nope.
> 
> Once again, we are getting mixed definitions of the Force. Expect more clashing of opinions and theories soon. We saw it this time with Kaydel, who has her own theories and methods. She kind of had the 'independent study' version of the Force with a textbook missing half the pages. She knows things based off of experience, but she also doesn't know A LOT. And Poe can see that.
> 
> Jyn and Cassian are once again breaking the law and trespassing, but Jyn MIGHT be on to something. 
> 
> And let's just give virtual hugs to Rey and Ben; they need it, my babies. :(
> 
> But any guesses who a ~prophet~ and a ~light-dark sider~ might be?  
> (Hint: I think it's fairly obvious)
> 
> I'd also hang on to the info Kaydel shared about protecting each other *shifty eyes* something is afoot in the Force sensitive world....
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated; love discussing the fic with readers! :D


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